


Breathe Again

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pansy & Draco friendship, Post-War, Post-War Healing, Rebuilding bridges, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, War traumas, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:59:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 64,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a tough thing to admit, if only to himself, but sometimes Harry misses the old Malfoy, the one that used to taunt him at every turn."</p>
<p>After the war, a very different Draco returns to Hogwarts. Harry is determined to be his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Harry/Draco (Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Neville, past Harry/Ginny and past Draco/OMC)  
>  **Warnings:** Not canon compliant. Contains, among other things, some changes to past events and ignores the epilogue completely. Also: a bit of strong language, references to past war horrors and violence (nothing graphic), some angst (it all works out, though) and explicit sexual content (M/M) in later chapters.  
>  **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine.

It's a tough thing to admit, if only to himself, but sometimes Harry misses the old Malfoy, the one that used to taunt him at every turn.  
  
The Malfoy who reappeared at Hogwarts to finish his schooling is very different, like a phantom or a shadow of his former self.  
  
The boy looks even more wretched than he did in their sixth year. He barely speaks to anyone, and he rarely eats, just picks at his food as he sits next to Goyle at the Slytherin table.  
  
Crabbe's seat remains empty. Always.  
  
Harry supposes it's a sign of respect. No one ever sits in the chair that used to be Colin's, either.  
  
Hermione has a theory, as she generally does. She claims Malfoy probably wants to get through the next few months without any incidents, be just another face in the crowd. Perhaps he hopes that if he keeps his head down and pretends to be invisible, no one will bother him.  
  
Harry doesn't know whether she’s right—she might be; she so often is and she understands people far better than he does— but he can't stop wondering; _worrying_.  
  
He misses the banter, even the endless fights he and Malfoy used to have before their unspoken truce. Everything is so quiet now; too quiet. This just doesn’t feel right.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
Late one night, a good hour past curfew, Harry’s curiosity and concern get the better of him.  
  
He stealthily follows Malfoy all the way up to the Astronomy Tower.  
  
He peeps through a crack in the door, hoping to discover whom the boy is meeting. Why else would he go up there, if not for some secret rendezvous?  
  
To Harry’s surprise, no one shows up, nor does it look as though Malfoy is expecting anyone. He just stands there wordlessly like a statue, gazing through one of the windows, occasionally letting out a deep, solemn sigh that resounds around the room.  
  
Harry’s heart clenches at the desolate scene in front of him. He can’t bring himself to keep watching without saying or doing something— _anything_.  
  
"Malfoy?" he ventures carefully, making his presence known as he steps closer. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in sixth year, so he thinks it best not to creep up on the boy.  
  
Malfoy turns around. To Harry’s relief, he doesn’t look like he feels threatened, merely resigned and exhausted. The moonlight emphasises the paleness of his pointy face and the deep, dark circles under his eyes seem even bigger here.  
  
"Potter," he says, his tone flat.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry blurts out. “You look knackered.”  
  
He knows he should probably keep up some sort of pretence, mention that it’s after curfew and Malfoy should be on his merry way—or something along those lines—but he can’t. That blank look in those tired eyes knocks the fight right out of him.  
  
Malfoy blinks in obvious surprise. "What do you care?" There is nothing unusual about the words themselves, but their tone lacks bite, malice and everything else that was there before in what now feels like a previous lifetime.  
  
Harry shrugs. He decides to keep the mood light, or at least as pleasant as he can, given the circumstances. "It's my job to, isn't it? Or my affliction? Hero complex and all that rot, remember?"  
  
Malfoy gives a small smile. Harry supposes it’s a start. "I'm fine, Potter. Now run along and worry about a wayward Weasley instead, won’t you?"  
  
Harry can’t tell whether that alliteration was intentional, but it makes him grin regardless. “None of those around here these days,” he replies. “Ron's happy with Hermione. Ginny finally asked Neville out… You’re the only one left to worry about, I'm afraid.”  
  
“Yes. Well,”— Malfoy’s face turns serious again—“perhaps you should be."  
  
Harry frowns. "I should be what?"  
  
"Afraid."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Word has it,” Draco replies, sounding more bitter than sarcastic, “Malfoys are dangerous, lethal even, and not to be trusted under any circumstances. You have seen _The Prophet_ lately, haven’t you? All that nonsense about Mother and…” He trails off, shaking his head sadly.  
  
Harry shrugs. "Can’t say I pay much attention to that rag anymore. I doubt anyone with half a brain still does. Besides, I know you're not dangerous. You never were. You were just young and daft; following in your father’s footsteps because that’s what you were expected to do. I have to say, he’s a real berk, though.”  
  
Draco snorts in a decidedly non-Malfoy fashion. “I was daft and my father is a berk. Thank you kindly, Potter. I feel so much better for knowing that!”  
  
Harry grits his teeth. So there will be a fight here after all. Was he really expecting anything else anyway? Old habits die hard and besides, the war is over. Malfoy no longer has any logical reasons to be civil to Harry. He no longer requires any help, so he can go back to being proud and condescending.  
  
Harry suppresses a sigh. Some things clearly haven’t changed, and it’s a real shame, too.  
  
Harry gears himself up for a brawl of the verbal or physical variety, or maybe even a magical duel—he should have never given the bastard his wand back—but then stops in his tracks the moment he notices the look on Malfoy’s face.  
  
The boy is smiling; a genuine smile that lights up his eyes.  
  
It occurs to Harry that the only other time Malfoy ever smiled at him like that was on the day Harry rescued him from the Fiendfyre.  
  
Flames soared all around them, the whole room ablaze as they flew to safety. Afterwards, Draco gave him a grateful smile; despite Ron’s hostility, despite Crabbe’s death, despite everything. It was a smile Harry would never forget.  
  
Here and now, that day feels like an eternity ago. So much is different now, including the animosity that once raged between them. They’re nowhere near being friends yet, but too much has happened for them to still remain enemies.  
  
Perhaps Harry was a little hasty in assuming there would be a fight here tonight. They don’t have much left to fight over and besides, Malfoy hasn’t tried to aggravate him in ages.  
  
Harry takes a deep breath. "What are you doing up here anyway?" he asks, careful not to sound suspicious.  
  
Malfoy shrugs. "Nothing in particular. Enjoying the peace and quiet. They allow me to think and get some rest, mentally at least. I haven't been sleeping terribly well since—" He abruptly stops talking, like he caught himself saying too much. He probably did.  
  
"I don’t sleep much either," Harry says softly. “I thought it would get better after the war, the nightmares, but… It’ll take time, I suppose.”  
  
Draco directs his gaze back outside. “A lot of time,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.  
  
Not another word is spoken. Harry knows he should probably leave, give Malfoy the space and solitude he so obviously requires.  
  
Still, something has to be said about this silence. The longer he stays here, the better he understands why Malfoy likes this place so much. It's quiet and the air is clear. It’s not as good as flying—few things are—but at least up here, a person can breathe.  
  
Harry sinks down to the floor, slumps back against the wall and closes his eyes.  
  
As long as he doesn’t make another sound, Malfoy probably won’t mind him being here. Perhaps he won’t even notice.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
The next morning, Harry wakes up at the crack of dawn. His back is sore and his neck stiff, but he hasn’t felt this rested in months.  
  
He readjusts his glasses and glances around to discover he’s in a large room in the Astronomy Tower.  
  
After an instant, he remembers.  
  
_Malfoy._  
  
Shivering from the morning chill, he wraps his blanket a little tighter around himself.  
  
Then he blinks.  
  
_A blanket?_  
  
Harry looks down and sees a thick cloak has been draped over him. It’s black with green lining, and has a Slytherin patch sewn onto its front.  
  
Some things have definitely changed.  
  
Harry smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry doesn't talk to Malfoy all day.

They only have one class together, History Of Magic. It involves plenty of note-taking while all students struggle to stay awake. Malfoy sits at the front of the class with Goyle and Zabini. Harry's somewhere at the back with Hermione, Ron and Neville. Their eyes never meet. Harry briefly wonders whether anything truly changed last night; are things between him and Draco really different now?

Harry supposes there’s only one way to find out.

That evening, at a quarter to midnight, he climbs the stairs to the Astronomy Tower again.

He convinced himself he needs to return Malfoy's cloak as soon as possible. That's the polite thing to do and besides, it gives him a good reason to show up tonight— _a plausible excuse_.

The door creaks slightly. Harry smiles when he notices Malfoy sitting on a windowsill. His impossibly blond hair glows in the moonlight and his posture seems more relaxed than yesterday.

“Here again are you, Potter?” he says, sounding—is that amused? Harry isn’t sure, but he can’t detect any annoyance or anger, so he assumes his presence isn't completely unwelcome.

“Yeah, I still had to give you your cloak back; I couldn't really do that earlier; had it in my satchel the whole time, though, just in case, um... Yeah, thanks, by the way.” His words come out in a ramble.

Malfoy moves to stand, smiling an odd sort of smile as Harry walks towards him. “You looked like you might need it. The nights can get pretty chilly up here, even at this time of year.”

Harry nods, unsure what else to say. Perhaps he should have thought this through first, made some kind of plan, rehearsed what he was going to speak about, that sort of thing.

Malfoy places his neatly folded cloak on the windowsill next to him.

Harry awkwardly clears his throat and blurts out the first thought to come to his mind: “They're having Quidditch try-outs tomorrow afternoon, putting new House Teams together.”

“So I've heard.”

There isn't a hint of enthusiasm in Draco’s voice or indeed, much of anything else. Nonetheless, Harry soldiers on: “Are you going?”

Draco frowns. “Why? Are you?”

Harry swallows. Of course. He should have expected as much: Malfoy forever unwilling to give a straightforward answer to a perfectly simple question, even one as innocent as this.

But all right, fair enough, if Harry has to share something in order to get something back, he shall, even as he's starting to think pulling a dragon's teeth would likely be an easier endeavour than getting on friendly terms with Draco Malfoy.

At this point, of course, Harry could and perhaps should stop to wonder why he persists, why it's so important to him suddenly to befriend the one person whose friendship he brusquely turned down all those years ago, the boy who went from pain in the neck through rival, enemy and unlikely ally to end up at just plain complicated, but he doesn't. This is simply something he must do, something he promised himself he’d do, and that's final.

“No,” he says. “I'd like a quiet, uneventful year for a change, without people paying me too much attention.”

Malfoy nods, but then says with a wry smile, “You saved the world, Potter. Whatever you end up doing, I fear you'll always find yourself in the spotlight. If you ask me, if you really enjoy the sport...”

Harry gives a guarded smile back. “I do, but still... It's just not worth all the hassle that comes with it.”

“All right. If you say so.”

Harry hesitates a beat. "So how about you?"  
  
“Me?” Draco frowns. “Surely you already know the answer to that?!”

Harry shakes his head. “No. How could I?” he wonders aloud, feeling foolish because _bugger_ , what did he miss this time? Judging by the look on Draco’s face, it has to be something staggeringly obvious.

“Very well, if we must...” Draco takes a deep breath. "Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but there’s the not so small matter of a rather large and decidedly hideous... _blemish_ on my arm. The wretched thing is supposed to fade, or so I've been told, but so far mine has made no move to do so. Which means: no short sleeves, no changing rooms, no communal showers... no Quidditch.”

“Oh...” Harry reckons he should say something, perhaps apologise even, because he didn't come here to dredge up the past and make Draco uncomfortable; _Merlin,_ the boy's gone even paler than usual and that was pretty much the last thing Harry intended to accomplish.

Before Harry can think of an appropriate response, however, Draco continues, “And I suppose now you're going to tell me, Potter, what really matters is how I did the right thing in the end, even helped you defeat Vol- _Him_ and so on and so forth, but you see...” He rakes a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “The thing is, I know what I did, what I was, and it isn't something I’m particularly inclined to bare to the rest of the world. It's.. They don’t need to actually see...” He takes a deep breath. “That shame is mine and mine alone.”

“I see,” Harry mutters softly. “I mean, I think I understand now.”

“Besides,” Draco continues, forcing a smile, "what I liked most about Quidditch was the flying. Being knocked about on a broomstick or falling off it, I was never terribly keen on that.”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of that part either." Then something occurs to him. "But you can still go flying, though, can't you?"

“Yes, of course, and when I get back home I’m sure I’ll do a lot of that.”

“No,” Harry says, becoming excited at the idea forming in his head. “How about now?”

Draco frowns. “Sorry? I don't follow. Now?”

“It's a clear night: full moon, plenty of stars. You can sneak out, fly over the Grounds, even beyond them. With all those Wards up, it's perfectly safe.”

Draco's frown turns into an incredulous smile. “Are you suggesting I go out flying? This very moment?”

Harry nods. “Yes, and I'll come with you.”

Draco shakes his head. “It’s the dead of night. This is... quite absurd, even by Gryffindor standards!”

Harry can't help himself. “What?” He grins. “Scared, Malfoy?”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Oh for heaven's sake, Potter!” Grabbing his cloak, he heads for the door. “I'm fetching my broom. I'll be right back.”

  
***

They sneak out of the castle and take off, soaring past trees and over fields, lakes, streams and meadows.

The moon is bright, the air clear and the temperatures are pleasantly warm for the end of September.

Sometimes they make a race of it, but most of the time they just fly side by side, not speaking because neither feels the need to say anything.

It's both calming and exhilarating.

Harry glances to his left to see Draco smiling widely. The sight warms his heart and makes him grin like an idiot.

Three hours pass too quickly. Harry and Draco finally land by the Great Lake. Harry plops himself down on the grass and to his surprise, Draco lies down next to him, folding his arms underneath his head.

They still don't say a word. Each lost in their own thoughts, they gaze up at the abundance of stars.

Draco is the one who reluctantly breaks the companionable silence, because it's getting late—or early, depending on one's point of view—and they have Potions in just a few hours.

So they return to the castle and say their goodbyes.

Harry creeps into his dorm, relieved to find everyone sound asleep as usual. 

He, too, soon drifts into slumber. For the second night in a row, no horrible dreams come to plague him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry makes it to Potions in the nick of time.

Professor Slughorn partners him with Malfoy again. Harry never understood the man’s reasoning behind this, possibly it’s a twisted experiment of some kind, but today he can hardly complain. In fact he feels quite pleased.

His good mood turns to horror, however, when he spots the small bowl on Draco’s desk. _Sweet Merlin_ , _are those things eyeballs?_

Harry flinches and quickly turns away, struggling to suppress the queasiness that overcomes him.

After all the atrocities he witnessed during the war, one might assume this sort of thing doesn’t bother him anymore. In truth, it’s the exact opposite. Harry has seen so much blood, death and gore, he can no longer stomach the sight of it.

He swallows thickly.

“Potter?” Draco ventures. When no reply is forthcoming, he gently places a hand on Harry’s arm and tries again: “Hey! Potter! … Harry?”

Harry turns around, glad he didn’t have time for breakfast this morning. It really wouldn’t do to throw up in class, or in the presence of Malfoy. _Please, God, no._

“Y-Yeah?” he can barely get the word out.

Malfoy jots down a list. “Here,” he says, handing Harry the piece of parchment. “These are the other ingredients we need for our potion. Why don’t you go and retrieve them from the cabinet while I slice up that lot?” He gestures in the direction of the bowl.

_Slice up_ _the eyeballs._ Harry shudders.

“And take your time, all right?”

Harry studies the boy’s face for signs of mockery and is relieved to spot none—Draco looks concerned if anything.

“Okay,” Harry says.

He fetches the herbs, meticulously checking the label of each bottle as he does. By the time he returns, the bowl is empty and the cauldron is bubbling with nothing recognisable inside. Harry lets out a long breath.

“Help me with those, would you?” Draco says.

Harry cuts the herbs as instructed. Draco adds them to mixture, all the while slowly stirring counterclockwise.

They don’t notice Slughorn until he’s standing right in front of them. “Good work, gentlemen,” he declares. “You two make an excellent team if you put your minds to it.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Draco says.

Harry just smiles. Slughorn seems to have changed his tune about Malfoy somewhat, but that’s hardly a surprise. Draco wasn’t exactly a hero during the war, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but he did play a vital part and even today Slughorn continues to aspire to be on the good side of anyone even remotely important — or infamous.

At the end of class, they bottle the potion and place it on the professor’s desk. Before Harry leaves, he whispers: “Same time, same place tonight?”

Draco smiles. “Naturally.”

 

***

 

Draco walks into his Common Room, pulls the unopened letter from his satchel and studies the envelope again. It’s not the first missive he receives with this handwriting, though the owl practically attacking him on the way to Potions to deliver the damn thing was definitely new. Draco sighs.

“She wrote you again, did she?” Gregory Goyle enquires. He’s sitting on one of the green sofas, leafing through a sports magazine.

“That’s right.” Draco puts down his satchel and walks towards the fireplace.

“Aren’t you even curious what it says?”

“No,” Draco replies, “I couldn't care less if I tried,” and with that, he throws the letter into the flickering flames.

Gregory frowns. The _‘She was you_ _r_ _best friend’_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it there. Instead, he ventures: “Mind if I ask you something?”

Draco shrugs. “Go ahead.”

“When I woke up around two this morning, I noticed you were gone again.”

“I was.”

“Your broom wasn’t there either, but when I left for breakfast it was back in its usual place...”

“Yes, well spotted! I went out flying.”

“Flying? Seriously? By yourself? Is that even safe?”

“It was perfectly safe, and besides, I wasn’t alone.”

Gregory's eyes widen. “What? Who..?”

Draco glances around to make certain no one’s eavesdropping. “If you must know, Greg, Potter was with me.”

“Potter,” Gregory repeats, putting his magazine down. “Potter. But… Does he even know you’re—”

Draco shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t, nor is there any need for him to.”

“But—”

“What?” Draco challenges. “Do you think there is?”

“Er, no, I suppose not, not unless he—” Gregory shakes his head. “No, you’re right; no need.”

“Right, then.”

“So you and him went out flying?”

Smiling at the memory, Draco nods.  

“Does this mean you’re friends now?”

Draco considers that for a moment. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Okay. But Draco?”

“Hm?”

“Be careful, won’t you? You wouldn’t want to get hurt.”

“No one will get hurt,” Draco replies curtly. He grabs his Charms textbook and stalks into their dorm.

Gregory has the good sense not to follow him; he knows Draco well enough to realise this conversation is over.

 

***

 

That night, Harry is the first to arrive.

He left Gryffindor Tower as soon as he’d finished his Charms homework, unable to listen to one more word about _sodding_ Quidditch; No, he hadn’t forgotten about the try-outs, no he doesn’t want to be on the team—definitely not, and why can’t people just leave him the hell alone?

Emitting a long sigh, he sinks down to the floor, letting the welcome silence and solitude wash over him.

A good twenty minutes later, Draco saunters in with self-assured steps, his head held high. He almost looks like the old Malfoy again — almost, because this time Harry gets a smile rather than the sneer or smirk from not so long ago.

“Oh, you’re already here, Potter.”

“Yeah, I left a bit earlier, needed to escape.”

“Escape, no less.” Draco sits down next him. “What or whom?”

“People,” he says simply. “Questions, advice...”

“Hm, still get a lot of that nonsense, do you?”

Harry nods. “More than enough. How about you? Do your Housemates hassle you about stuff? Quidditch, for example?”

Draco smiles. “Not really. Greg gets a bit inquisitive sometimes, he did earlier as well, but never to the point where it becomes bothersome. He’s just being a friend, really.”

Harry frowns. “Greg?”

“Gregory Goyle.” Draco grins. “I do believe the two of you have met, Potter.”

“Um, yeah,” Harry mumbles, feeling silly, “I, er, think of him as just Goyle. I’d completely forgotten his first name. Sorry.”

Draco laughs. “Not to worry. Anyway, as I was saying, only _Goyle_ sticks his nose in my business from time to time. Blaise, Daphne and Theodore value their privacy as much as I do mine, so...” He pauses a moment, then continues, “Of course, I suppose things might be different if more Slytherins from our year had returned to Hogwarts or if I spent a lot of time socialising in the Common Room, but I don’t, so...”

Harry nods. “Lucky you,” he says. It comes out more bitter than he intended.

“So, Potter,” Draco changes the subject. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“Er... Nothing, really.” Harry frowns; damn, was he supposed to suggest something to do? “But I did want to ask…”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday and I was thinking of going to Hogsmeade in the afternoon.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

“Why?” Draco asks. To Harry’s surprise, he sounds suspicious.

“No particular reason,” he says quickly, “I just thought it would be more fun than going by myself.”

“No, Harry, I mean: why me? Why not ask your friends? Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, that Lovegood girl...?”

Harry shakes his head. “All the people you’ve just mentioned, they’re dating someone. Ron and Hermione have each other, Luna’s seeing some Hufflepuff from her year, and Neville and Ginny are actually going on their first real date tomorrow, so… I’d only be like the third wheel if I tagged along. It’d be weird, uncomfortable... Besides, I thought you and I could have a nice time away from here.”

Draco frowns. “I know you mentioned her and Longbottom before, but if I’m not mistaken, weren’t you the one dating Ginny Weasley?”

“Yeah, I was,“ Harry says awkwardly. “We split up right before the war. It was supposed to be just a temporary break, really, but…” He looks down at his hands. “While we were apart, she developed feelings for someone else – Neville obviously, though she didn’t do anything about it then – and me, well, I came to realise I loved her more as a sister, so we eventually talked and decided to call it quits for good.”

“Ah.”

“We’re still friends, though, no hard feelings or anything.” Harry hesitates briefly, then asks: “Are you still dating Pansy?”

“I never dated Pansy,” Draco snaps, his tone unexpectedly harsh all of a sudden.

Harry blinks, inwardly kicking himself because apparently he unwittingly opened another can of worms – and just as he and Draco were getting along so well, too. Why can’t this be simple? Why does it always seem like one step forward, two steps back with them?

“Oh, but I thought…”

“You thought _wrong_ , Potter.”

“All right. Sorry,” Harry mumbles. Clearly, he shouldn’t have mentioned Parkinson. He hit a nerve. He messed up. Again. If only he were better at this whole ‘people’ thing...

Draco, meanwhile, doesn’t say another word. He’s standing in front of a window, gazing at the night sky, lost in his own thoughts and judging from the look on his face, Harry assumes they aren’t terribly happy ones.

Harry clears his throat. “So, um, what do you reckon?” 

Draco turns around and gives him a blank look.

“Hogsmeade? Tomorrow afternoon?” Harry bites his lip. He doesn’t expect Draco to accept, not after he went and stuffed things up again, but he has to at least try. “We can have some drinks or ice cream or something?”

Draco doesn’t answer right away. He looks like he’s silently debating something with himself, which Harry finds more than a little odd. Weren’t they becoming friends? Does Malfoy still think there’s some ulterior motive involved here? Harry sighs. Knowing Malfoy, yes, that’s probably exactly what's going through his mind right now.

Then, finally, after a good five minutes, Draco says: “All right, why not?”

Harry smiles. “Maybe we can meet around one by the fountain up front?”

“Works for me,” Draco says simply.

He walks back to where Harry is and sits down next to him. They start talking again, about schoolwork and classes. Harry takes extra care to steer clear of anything too personal. 

Another night turns into morning.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"For crying out loud, Harry, he’s a complete shit!”

“No, Ron, he’s not.”

“Yeah yeah, you think the war changed him. Like hell it did! He just hides his true self better now he’s older. You’ll see! Don’t fall for his crap, mate.”

Exasperated, Harry shakes his head. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned it was Draco he was meeting this afternoon, but what else was he supposed to say when his best friends invited him along to Hogsmeade? He couldn’t exactly lie, claim he’d rather stay here; what if they’d bumped in to each other in the village?

Still, he never expected Ron to start ranting and raving like a man possessed, spouting all sorts of accusations about Draco, some more outlandish than others.

Harry is fast losing his patience, along with his temper. “Just what is your problem anyway, Ron?” he yells.

“My problem?!”

“That’s right. You’ve got Hermione, your family, a good spot on our Quidditch team...”

“But you didn’t even want to be on the team!”

“No, I didn’t and that’s not my bloody point!”

“Then what is?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “You have plenty of reasons to be happy, to feel like you belong. Me, I was pretty lost when we got back here. Actually, I’ve been feeling lost and miserable ever since the war, and then I became friends with Draco, sort of, and it was like I was finally finding my place again. Why can’t you just be happy about that, why do you have to act like a complete wanker just because he’s someone you don’t like?”

Ron’s eyes widen.

“And he _has_  changed whether you want to see it or not, and I like spending time with him. We understand each other. We can talk about stuff. He makes me smile. He calms me down. Somehow, everything doesn’t seem so bleak when I’m with him. And just so we’re clear, I _am_ meeting him later, Ron; you can damn well deal with it!”

Ron blinks, twice, then blurts out: “Bloody hell, Harry, you should hear yourself, you almost sound like you’re in love with that foul git!”

“What?” Harry yells. “What?! Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Fed up, he bolts out of the Common Room, slamming the door shut behind him.

He doesn’t hear Hermione’s cry of “Harry?” or the start of the impressive lecture Ron is about to be subjected to.

  
***

  
Harry starts walking. His feet carry him down stairs and through corridors, until he finds himself in the dungeons, standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. He pauses, unsure what to do next or why he’s even there.

Harry clenches his fists and inhales sharply. Ron’s words keep racing through his head, further fuelling his anger. He feels like he’s buzzing with raw magic aching to burst to the surface and he really, _really_ needs to calm down before he damages something—or someone.

Harry takes another deep breath and at that precise moment, Blaise Zabini strides into the corridor.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “If it isn’t Harry Potter en route to the Slytherin section. Pray tell, are you lost?”

“No,” Harry replies as neutrally as he can manage. “I’m looking for Malfoy.”

Blaise smirks. “Why? Is he lost?”

“No.”

Blaise crosses his arms. "Then what do you want with him, hmm?”

"That's between Draco and me, isn't?" Harry snaps. Keeping calm is becoming increasingly difficult. His hands are shaking like leaves in the wind.

"I beg to differ,” Blaise says. “You show up here, out of nowhere, looking like you have murder on your mind. I don’t know what you and Draco are fighting about this time and frankly, I don’t care – it’s none of my business and it most certainly isn’t my problem, but there will be no altercations in the Slytherin Common Room, Potter, not on my watch.”

“I’m not looking for trouble. I just want to talk to him.”

Blaise remains unconvinced. “Is that so?”

"What’s going on?” a third voice enquires. Gregory Goyle is standing in the Common Room doorway.

"Potter here wants to talk to Draco,” Blaise says.

Gregory looks Harry up and down. “Is he expecting you?”

"Why would he be expecting him?” Blaise enquires, baffled.  
  
Harry shakes his head. “No.”

Gregory frowns. He hesitates a moment, then says, “He’s in his dorm, working on his Ancient Runes essay. I suppose you’d better follow me, Potter.”

“Thank you,” Harry says.

An intrigued Blaise trots in behind them.

  
***

When Harry enters the dormitory, Draco is lying in the middle of his bed, on his stomach, writing what appears to be a long paper.

“Er, Malfoy?”

Draco looks up. “Potter?” He moves to stand, placing his quill and parchment on the bedside table next to him. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at one? Did I get the times mixed up?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Oh? Then what brings you here?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Ron.”

“What about him?” Draco asks. He sits back down on his bed and gestures to Harry to take a seat next to him, which he does.

“I told him I was meeting you this afternoon.”

Draco sighs. “Judging from the look on your face, that probably wasn’t wise…”

“No,” Harry replies grimly. “It definitely wasn’t.” He takes another deep, steadying breath. “Ron lost it completely, yelled at me that I was mental, that I needed my head examined and should have myself tested for _Imperius_ too while I was at it; then he said you were a liar, only using me…”

Harry clenches his fists again. His entire body is trembling with barely suppressed rage.

On a nearby table, a large water jug shatters into a thousand pieces, its contents spilling all over the floor.

Draco blinks. He reaches for his wand and casts a quick _Reparo_ followed by a cleaning spell. Then he takes both of Harry’s hands in his own. Raw magical energy shoots through him like lightning, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Harry,” he says softly. “I know what a misguided cretin Weasley can be, but please don’t wreck my dorm because of him.”

“Sorry. I’m not doing it on purpose.. I’m just disappointed and angry—so incredibly angry.”

“Yes, I can see that. But you have to get a hold of yourself. Come on now.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry says. “I’m trying, but you know, it wasn’t the first time he blew up at me like that, either. We’ve had our share of spectacular rows over the years. The last one was during the war. He was convinced I was sleeping with Hermione behind his back.”

Draco’s eyes widen. “What? But you weren’t, surely?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “Of course not. I don’t fancy Hermione and even if I did, we'd never do that to him. But once Ron’s got an idea in his head, he’s like a dog with a bone.” Harry smiles wryly. “At least things always go back to normal afterwards, you know. Eventually he apologises and we make up. It’s just… Why does he have to act like that at all?”

Draco shrugs. “What can I say? He’s a Weasley, raised in a shack by other Weasleys.”

“Draco!”

“Sorry,” he says, even though the expression on his face indicates he’s nothing of the sort. “But seriously, though, Potter; he claims I’m using you?”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters.

“Dare I ask how and more importantly, to what end?”

Harry sighs. “He mentioned something about two Malfoy properties that are still being searched by the authorities. In Italy and France, I think?”

“And…?”

“And Ron says the only reason you’re being nice to me is because you’re hoping I can convince the Ministry to back off.”

“I see.” Draco sneers in a way Harry hasn’t seen him do in quite a while. “All right, fair enough, Weasley is correct about two of our properties being under investigation still: a land house in Turin and a chateau in Marseilles, to be exact. However, I’m not worried about the authorities finding something in either of those places, because there is nothing there to be found. My family doesn’t have a stash of forbidden grimoires or dark artifacts hidden somewhere. We’re not daft!”

Draco shakes his head, releases Harry’s hands, leaps up and starts pacing the room. “And furthermore, allow me to remind you: you were the one who sought me out. You followed me up to the tower that night. You kept coming back. You suggested we go flying. And you invited me to Hogsmeade. This”—he gestures between them—“was all your idea. I started this school year fully intent on leaving you and your friends alone, even ignoring you completely. I have no ulterior motive. I have no motive at all. Really, Potter, I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong, how rotten these accusations are!”

Harry sighs. “You don’t have to tell me, Draco. I know. And believe me, I told Ron as much as well.”

Draco shakes his head and sits down again.

For a few long minutes, not another word is spoken, until Harry asks: “So do you want to cancel?”

“Cancel?” Draco repeats.

“Hogsmeade? Maybe we could go another time?”

Draco shrugs. He looks defeated. “Whatever you want.”

“But…” Harry grabs Draco’s hands again. “That’s not what I want at all.”

Draco glances down at their intertwined fingers. “So you still want to go?”

“Yes.”

“What about Weasley?”

“He’ll come around. He always does. And I’m sure Hermione will talk some sense into him as well, if she hasn’t done so already.”

“All right, Harry, but I would like to make one thing perfectly clear, though...”

“What?”

“To put it simply: I don’t want a repeat of our earlier years here. I came back to Hogwarts to finish my education, and that’s the only reason I returned. I’m through with pointless rivalry, petty arguments, shouting matches, impromptu hexes and duels in corridors... I want to concentrate on my schoolwork, get good marks and find a way to... well, _function_ through the memories, the shame, the nightmares, all of it. I don’t need crap from Ronald Weasley or anyone else in my life, not right now and never again. I promise you, Harry, I’ll ignore him to the best of my ability if he starts something, truly I will, but if he keeps dragging what’s left of my family’s good name through the mud, at some point, I will retaliate… I’m not going to just stand there and take it, not after everything I’ve been through, not after everything my parents have been through. Do you understand?”

Harry nods. “Yes. I do, Draco. Believe me. And I don’t want to go back to the way things used to be, either. I don’t want to fight, least of all with you. And I promise I’ll talk to Ron. I’ll get Hermione to talk to Ron. I’ll even ask Ginny and Neville to talk to Ron. He won’t start anything.”

Draco smiles. “I’ll hold you to that.” He wants to say more, but is interrupted by a loud knock at the dormitory door.

“Yes?” he yells, letting go of Harry’s hands again.

Gregory and Blaise walk in.

“We’re off to the Great Hall,” Gregory says. “For lunch. We just wanted to let you know.”

“And while we were here, also check whether you two hadn’t killed each other yet,” Blaise adds with a grin.

Draco grins back. “As you can see, we’re still very much alive, Zabini; ever so sorry to disappoint you.”

“Are you coming as well?” Gregory asks.

“No, we’re off to Hogsmeade in a few. We’ll grab something to eat there.”

“All right,” Gregory says. “Have fun!”

Once his two friends have left, Draco turns to Harry. “That’s all right by you, isn’t it? Lunch in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Harry says. “I have to rush up to Gryffindor Tower first, to grab a jacket and some cash, but yes.”

“Shall I meet you by the fountain in about fifteen minutes then?”

“All right,” Harry says with a smile. He exits the Slytherin section in far better spirits than he entered it.

Draco watches him leave and emits a deep sigh. He’s been enjoying Harry’s company a lot these past few days, sometimes despite himself, but at the same time he has to wonder whether he isn’t setting himself up for no uncertain disaster.

In the long run, how could anything good possibly come of this?

 


	5. Chapter 5

A friendly young waitress brings them cherry pancakes and coffee.

Harry and Draco say their thanks and eagerly tuck in.

Harry is pleased to see his companion enjoying his food for a change; Draco still barely eats at Hogwarts’ meal times, which is more than a little worrying.

“This place is new, isn’t it?” Harry wonders aloud.

“Yes,” Draco replies. “I first found out about it when Mother brought me here the Saturday before school restarted. It had only been open for a few days.”

At Harry’s questioning look, he continues, “We came down to talk to McGonagall and Slughorn about Wards and other security measures and such. My parents wanted to make absolutely certain I’d be safe at Hogwarts. Things were rather tense, as you might recall, especially for the Slytherins.”

Harry nods. He definitely remembers the loaded atmosphere and it didn’t only involve the returning students. The Sorting Ceremony turned out to be an awkward, painful affair, too. Whenever some kid was sorted into Slytherin, there would be hateful glares, suspicious whispers and all too often, shameful tears.

Things improved somewhat after McGonagall intervened. She stunned the Great Hall into silence by giving what was probably the most damning lecture of her teaching career if not her entire life, but sadly, for most the damage had already been done by then.  
  
"Delicious aren't they, Potter?"

“Huh?”

“The pancakes,” Draco clarifies with a grin.

“Oh. Yeah. Brilliant,” Harry says honestly. “It’s a bit odd to see you drinking coffee, though. I didn’t think you even _did_ Muggle beverages.”

Draco smiles. “If you must know, I’d always been told coffee is what Muggles drink to stay awake. So when my nightmares got really bad, to the point where I dreaded going to bed, I thought I’d give it a try, too. I had no _Dreamless Sleep_ , you see, or the means to brew some, and then when Severus...” He trails off. “Anyway, over time, I developed a taste for the stuff, I suppose.”

“You must miss him,” Harry blurts out, “Snape, I mean,” but he regrets it immediately because they had a pleasant afternoon planned and now he might have gone and ruined it by making Draco feel uncomfortable again.

Draco is unfazed, however. “Yes, I do,” he says simply. “I’d known him all my life. He was my godfather, too. Did you know that?”

Harry shakes his head. His thoughts drift to Sirius and he feel his heart sink; the pain of losing his own godfather isn’t as raw as it was at the beginning, but it’s still there, very much so, gnawing beneath the surface.

“And the strangest thing,” Draco continues with a wan smile. “I keep expecting him to barge into in our Common Room, with those billowing black robes of his, and complain loudly about something we did or didn’t do. It’s so hard to fathom he’s actually gone.”

“Um, Draco…” Harry takes a deep breath. “About Snape,” he ventures carefully, because he has wondered about this for a long time and now seems like an opportune moment to bring it up.

"Yes?"

“Before the Final Battle, did you know about…”

“His true allegiance?”

“Yeah.”

Draco sighs. “No, I didn’t have the slightest clue. I wish he’d told me, though. I understand why he didn’t, I expect he didn’t trust me enough and that was probably smart of him because if the Da- if _Vol-de-mort_ had ever… well. But honestly, I wish I had known. ”

“Yeah. Me too,” Harry says. “All that time I hated him, truly hated him with every fibre of my being and I was sure the feeling was mutual, but he was on my side all along. I feel awful about that now.”

“Don’t,” Draco says. “You were supposed to hate him, otherwise his plan would never have worked. Besides, he didn’t exactly go out of his way to make himself seem likable to you, did he?”

Harry can’t help but chuckle at that. “No, he didn’t."

“Everything satisfactory?” the waitress asks with a smile as she’s making her rounds of the tables. “Would you like anything else?”

“Yes, it’s perfect,” Draco replies and gestures towards his empty coffee up, “I’d love a refill, though.”

“Yeah. Same here, please,” Harry says.

“Coming right up!”

  
  
***

 

A few hours later, though neither of them is keeping track of time, Harry and Draco walk out of the café.

"Fancy checking out that new bookshop, Potter?”

Harry smiles. “Sure. Are you looking for anything in particular to read?”

“No, not really, although I do wonder if they carry books about Runes.”

“Runes?”

“Yes, my essay seems to have taken on a life of its own. I might need more information than what’s available in our school books to complete it adequately.”

Harry chuckles.

“What's so funny?”

“You sounded exactly like Hermione just now.”

"I resent that, Potter,” Draco replies with mock indignation.

Harry laughs.

“Draco? Draco Malfoy?” an unfamiliar female voice calls out behind them.

Harry and Draco turn around. A camera clicks and flashes, capturing their surprised faces.

“Hello there,” the woman says. “My name is Cassandra Maverick. I’m a reporter for _The Daily Prophet_ , I would love for us to sit down and have a bit of a chat!”

“I’m afraid I’m a little pressed for time at the moment,” Draco says, his tone calm and friendly. “Perhaps another opportunity will present itself some day.”

“How about a quote, then? For our readers? Now you’re back at Hogwarts, have your parents returned to Britain, too? Will further charges be brought against your father? Can we expect a new trial?”

Draco swallows thickly. He feels put on the spot, cornered — scared even, but he’s determined not to show any weakness. “If you contact my family’s legal team, madam,” he states simply, “they’ll happily provide you with any quote your paper requires.”

“Yes,” she declares with a fake smile. “I don’t doubt that, but I’d much rather hear it directly from you, as I’m sure would our readers. Call it _human interest_ , if you will. Incidentally, I’m intrigued to see you here with Harry Potter, Draco. Are the two of you friends now, Harry?”

“Sorry, madam, but we really must be on our way,” Draco says.

“But Draco...”

At that point, Harry, who has remained completely silent ever since the woman and her photographer appeared, can’t stand it anymore. “Draco doesn’t want to talk to you,” he barks, “and neither do I. Leave us the hell alone!”

With that, he turns on his heel and practically drags Draco down the street and around the corner with him, and he doesn’t stop walking until he’s absolutely certain the _Prophet’s_ finest haven’t decided to follow them.

“Potter,” Draco says. “Kindly release my arm before you dislocate it.”

Harry lets go, looking sheepish. “Sorry, did I hurt you? I just wanted her to stop bothering you, that must have been dead upsetting for you back there.”

"My hero,” Draco says with a roll of his eyes. “I appreciate the gesture, really, but I fear your little stunt might have landed us right on tomorrow’s front page, the exact opposite of what we were trying to accomplish.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“That may be so, but I do, and my parents might as well. I expect my father won’t be too happy about this, for one.”

“Oh.” Harry bites his lip. “Sorry?”

Draco sighs. “It’s fine. Or it will be eventually; one more nasty article to add to the festering pile. I expect everything that’s been written about the alleged post-war antics of the Malfoy family will make an impressive scrapbook some day.” Draco takes a deep breath. “Right then, let’s go check out that bookshop before it closes, shall we?”

"Okay,” Harry says and follows him without another word.

.   
  
***

  
Harry doesn’t return to Gryffindor Tower until late in the evening.

After that unpleasant confrontation with the press — even with Rita Skeeter on temporary leave to write some poor bugger’s biography, _The Daily_ _Prophet_ remains a vile rag — there were no further incidents in Hogsmeade.

Draco bought an impressive amount of books, then took Harry to three other shops ‘just to browse’ and finally, the two of them ended up at  _The Three Broomsticks_ , where they talked for hours over a few Butterbeers.

It was lot of fun and Harry hopes they can make these trips a regular thing from now on.  
  
When he walks into the Common Room, Ron and Hermione are sitting on one of the sofas, clearly waiting for him.

“Hello,” he says awkwardly.

“Good evening, Harry,” Hermione says. “Did you and Draco have a nice time in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, looking down at his shoes. “Yeah, we did.” He feels quite uncomfortable suddenly. What’s going on? Is he about to be subjected to some kind of inquisition? Surely not again?

“Good.” Hermione nods to herself, then continues, “Ron here has something to tell you; don’t you, Ron?” She nudges her boyfriend’s arm, not exactly gently, to emphasise her point.

“Er, yeah,” Ron begins. “Right. I do. Er, about what I said earlier, Harry, about you becoming friends with Malfoy. The thing is: I don’t like him, as you know, and honestly I don’t see that ever changing.”

“Fair enough,” Harry mumbles.

“But if the two of you get on now, for whatever stupid reason, I guess that is what it is, and if that’s what you want, it’s not up to me to interfere.” Ron inhales sharply. “But if he ever tries anything, if he ever does anything to hurt you, I swear, Harry, I will kill him. And I won’t be nice about it either!”

“Okay,’” Harry says, frowning.

Hemione gives Ron another nudge, in the shoulder this time.

“Anyway, what I meant to say was: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off at you like that.”

Harry smiles. “All right.”

“So, still best mates, yeah?”

Harry nods. “Yeah.”

Ron grins. “So, how would you feel about some Wizard’s Chess?”

“Sure, why not?” Harry replies. It’s been a while since he and Ron last played and he isn’t going up to the Astronomy Tower tonight anyway.

Harry manages to win one of the four games while Hermione reads in her thick book, and then the three friends retire to bed.

Harry falls asleep to thoughts of Draco and with a contented smile on his face.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Ron is flying a few feet ahead of them, bringing Goyle to safety, complaining loudly – swearing like a drunken sailor – all the while.

Harry zigzags his broom over smouldering bookcases and past burning curtains through flames that rise at frightening speed. The room is hot and smells like ashes.

“Almost there,” he says, not sure whom he’s trying to reassure, Malfoy — whose arms are gripping him so tightly he can barely breathe — or himself. “Hang on, Draco.”

They reach the corridor. The Room of Requirement door slams shut behind them, as they both jump off the broom.

Harry scrambles to his feet and glances around. Ron and Goyle are no longer anywhere to be seen, but he knows they made it out safely. He watches Malfoy brush some dust off his trousers.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so,” Malfoy says. He looks up and smiles. It’s the most dazzling, most beautiful smile Harry has ever seen.

Harry wants to say something then, but his throat is dry, his voice seems to have vanished and even if he could speak, he wouldn’t find any suitable words anyway. All he can do is stare.

“Potter.” Malfoy steps closer, until they’re mere inches apart. “Thank you.”

Still lost for words, Harry nods.

“How about you? How are you feeling?” Malfoy asks softly. “I must say, you look a bit out of sorts.”

“F-Fine,” Harry croaks out when he notices the blatant concern in those grey eyes. Since when does Malfoy care enough to be worried about him, he wonders, but then since when did he care enough to save Malfoy’s life at the risk of losing his own? He has no idea about anything anymore, it seems, except…

Of one thing he is certain, he cannot take this for one minute longer; he feels as though he’s back in that burning room; there’s no oxygen, only fire and smoke; he can’t breathe, he can’t think, so he acts.

He grabs Malfoy by the shoulders, pulls him impossibly close and kisses him full on the mouth.

When Malfoy returns the embrace, fiercely so, and kisses him back for reasons Harry doesn’t understand either (Wasn’t there a time not so long ago when life still made a morsel of sense?), all Harry can think is that this is wonderful, _perfect_ , and he never _ever_ wants it to stop.

Yet it does, abruptly. Harry lands on the floor with a loud thud — _“Draco, what the hell?”_

He opens his eyes and squints against the surprisingly bright light of a dripping candle.

“Harry?” Ron is standing over him, a worried expression on his face. “Are you all right, mate?”

Harry looks around, confused. He recognises his surroundings but how on earth did he end up back in his dorm?

“You fell out of bed, mate!” Ron tells him. “It was quite a crash. I’m surprised I’m the only one who woke up. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Harry blinks. He doesn’t feel any pain. “No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s one good thing, then,” Ron says, holding out his hand to help Harry up. “So what happened? Another nightmare?”

“Er,” Harry replies awkwardly, hoping the room is dark enough to hide his blush. “No, not really, just a bizarre, lucid dream.”

Ron nods. “Yeah, I guess we’ll be dealing with those for a while yet.”

Harry nods. “I suppose I’d best try to get a few more hours of sleep.”

“Good plan,” Ron says. “Me too.”

“Goodnight then.”

“Night mate.”

Harry climbs back into bed. He sees the light of the candle go out and within minutes, across the room, Ron is snoring once more.

For Harry, sleep doesn’t come as easily. He lies awake for a long time, wondering why he would even dream something like that and also, does he actually want to kiss Draco and what would happen if he did?

 

***

  
Draco is on his way to the library when McGonagall approaches him in the corridor.

“Mister Malfoy,” she informs him. “There is a fellow from the Ministry here to see you.”

Draco feels himself go pale.

“No need to be alarmed,” McGonagall says kindly. “I do believe he has some good news to share and it shan’t take long. If you would care to follow me?”

"Of course, Madam,” Draco replies and dutifully trails after her to a small meeting room on the second floor.

The man seated at the rable rises from his chair to shake Draco’s hand.

“I believe you and Auror Alderton are already acquainted?” McGonagall says.

“Indeed we are, Headmistess,” the man replies while Draco just nods.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, McGonagall exits the room. Draco wishes she wouldn’t.

“Please, take a seat, Draco.”

Draco does and silently begs his hands to stop shaking. Sitting here alone with Bernard Alderton fills him with disgust, dread and shame, in more or less equal proportions.

He has indeed met the man before, in the Ministry safe house the Malfoys stayed at briefly right after the war, while the authorities searched the Manor, practically turned the place inside out, and cleared it of any lingering Dark Magic.

One night, after yet another horrible nightmare, Draco went down to the kitchen. He stumbled upon a case of Firewhiskey and thought to himself: _Why not? This might knock me out long enough to get some actual rest._

So he took a drink, and another, and a few more, and then at some point, Alderton joined him.

They’d been introduced a few hours earlier and as Draco understood it, the man had only recently completed his Auror training and wasn’t handling the harsh realities of war terribly well.

Somehow, the two of them started talking and seriously hitting the booze.

Somewhere halfway through the second bottle, the lines began to blur.

Draco was tired, scared, and so wretchedly alone. When Alderton suggested they go up to his room, he readily complied; he didn’t even think about what he was doing or consider the possible consequences.

Draco never imagined his first time would be an act of lonely desperation with a virtual stranger, a man he had no feelings for and who’d sneak out of his bed early the following morning without as much as a quick goodbye.

To this day, the memory makes him sick to his stomach with self-loathing. He fervently wished he’d never have to set eyes on Alderton again.

But here he is…

“So, Draco,” the man begins in a formal tone. “As the Headmistress may have already told you, I come bearing good news.”

“Go on,” Draco says, relieved his voice stays even.

“The Ministry has decided to wrap up its inquiry into your family’s affairs. Nothing incriminating was discovered, no further charges will be brought against any of you and as of this morning, the properties that were still under investigation have been released.”

“Oh,” Draco says. The full implication of what he was just told doesn’t sink in yet. Alderton’s presence is far too unsettling to allow it to.

“I have it all here in writing,” Alderton continues, placing a pile of documents in front of Draco. “As you are now of age, you will also be required to sign for receipt.”

“All right.” Draco nods to himself. He scans the contents of the documents – more than once, his father impressed upon him the importance of never signing anything without reading it first – and with a slightly unsteady hand, he jots down his signature where required.

“Thank you,” Alderton says, putting one signed piece of parchment back in his briefcase.

“So that’s it?” Draco enquires. He hopes his anxiety isn’t showing, but he really needs to get away. This whole situation, good news or not, is making his stomach churn and his skin crawl.

Alderton nods.

Draco moves to stand and so does the young Auror.

Unexpectedly – or perhaps not – Alderton speaks again. “Draco?”

"Yes?”

“I have some more Ministry business to conduct in this region over the coming weeks. I was wondering if, maybe, you’d be interested in joining me for a drink or something some time?”

Draco swallows thickly. He’d like nothing better than to tell this man to go straight to hell, but it wouldn’t be wise to offend a Ministry official and potentially land his family in hot water again, so instead he replies politely, “I’m afraid my school work keeps me incredibly busy; there's so much to do, I simply haven’t the time to spare.”

Alderton seems disappointed. “Well, I’m only an Owl away should you change your mind.”

For a brief moment, the man looks like he wants to hug Draco, but Draco sticks out a hand for him to shake, so he does.

Then, with a parting nod, his heart in his throat, Draco makes a hasty exit.

 

***

 

Harry glances across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table and sighs. Draco isn’t there for lunch and he didn’t show up at breakfast either. Something isn’t right.

“He’s probably with that Ministry bloke,” Ron offers, following his best friend’s worried gaze.

“What Ministry bloke?”

“I don’t know his name,” Ron replies between two mouthfuls of soup, “but I remember seeing him once at some hush-hush Auror meeting back at our house. Ages ago. He was with McGonagall earlier. Maybe he came to see Malfoy?”

Harry really doesn’t like the sound of that. “Why?” he wonders aloud.

Ron shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe _daddy_ 's been arrested again?”

Harry shakes his head. He leaps up from his chair.

“Oi! Where are you going, mate? You haven’t even touched your sandwiches.”

“You can have them, Ron. I’m going to find Draco.”

Harry all but runs out of the Great Hall. His heart hammers in his chest. What if this isn’t about Lucius? What if they took Draco away for some ridiculous, far-fetched reason? What if it _is_ about Lucius and Draco broke down? What if something has happened to Narcissa?

Harry hurries up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower. He’s out of breath by the time he reaches the top.

He opens the door to that familiar room.

Draco is standing by one of the windows. _Thank Merlin_ , Harry thinks, but his relief turns into deep concern when he sees pain and defeat written all over that pale face.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco says, his voice flat. “What brings you here?”

Harry crosses the distance between them. “You weren’t in the Great Hall this morning, or just now, and Ron told me some Ministry guy had come to Hogwarts, so… Are you okay? Was that man here to see you?”

“Yes, he was.” Draco swallows a sudden lump in his throat. “And for your first question: I’m not sure.”

“Bad news?”

“No.” Draco tries to smile but only half succeeds. “Rather the opposite, actually.”

“Oh?”

“The investigation is concluded. The Ministry let us off the hook. It’s finally all over.”

“That’s great!” Harry says, genuinely pleased. “But what has you so upset, then?”

Sighing, Draco rakes a hand through his hair. “I guess you could say I’ve had a fairly... turbulent morning.”

“Turbulent?” Harry parrots, taking Draco’s hands in his. “You know, if there’s anything you’d like to talk about…”

Draco sighs. “I don’t know, Harry. There isn’t anything in particular, just… memories, regrets, shame, grief and similar assaulting me from all sides. I suppose I wasn’t prepared for such an unexpected confrontation, even if it had a positive outcome. It was just... bloody hard.”

Draco looks like he’s about to burst into tears, so Harry does the only thing he can think of to do and throws his arms around him. Draco returns the embrace. He’s trembling, so Harry holds him tighter.

They remain standing like that for countless silent minutes, until Draco slowly pulls away. He seems embarrassed. “Merlin, I must look a right mess,” he mutters to himself.

Harry doesn’t speak again before Draco has regained his composure. Then he asks, as casually as he can manage, “How about some lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, they’re probably already clearing the tables in the Hall, but we could always go down to the kitchens.”

Draco gives him an incredulous look. “The kitchens?”

“The elves will be only too happy to make us something.”

“Let me guess: you know this from personal experience?”

Harry grins. “Yeah, I used to get quite peckish at night. Well, Ron and me both.” Harry is pleased to see Draco smile at that. “So, what do you reckon?”

“Oh, all right,” Draco replies. “I suppose I should eat something at some point today.”

“Come on, then,” Harry says, grabbing Draco’s hand and leading him in the direction of the door. “Maybe we can even have pancakes.”

Once they've descended the stairs and reached the main corridor, Harry releases Draco’s hand again, even though, truth be told, he really doesn’t want to.


	7. Chapter 7

“Good grief,  whatever happened to you?” Gregory exclaims when he sees his friend enter their Common Room.

Draco’s hair is a complete mess, there’s a purple bruise on his right cheek and his robe’s left sleeve is torn from the shoulder to the elbow.

“Were you in a fight or something?”

“Not exactly. That blasted owl tried to maul me again! So much for my second attempt to actually make it all the way to the library today.”  


“Owl? What owl?" Gregory asks.

“A rude, irritating beast that insists on delivering me these,” Draco says, pulling an envelope from his robe pocket.

"Blimey! You received another one already?"

“Indeed, whether I wanted it or not!” Draco marches straight to the fireplace and watches with his arms crossed as another letter goes up in flames. “At least this nonsense is easily taken care of.”

"You know," Blaise remarks from his chair in the corner where he's reading a detective novel. “She’s going to keep on sending you those.”

Draco shrugs. "Then I'll just have to keep burning them, won't I?"

Blaise shakes his head. “She was your best friend, Draco,” he points out with a hint of sadness in his voice. “For all those years.”

“Yes, _‘was’_ being the operative word here, Zabini!”

“You won’t be able to avoid her forever," Gregory interjects, carefully.

“Is that so?” Draco sneers. “You just watch me!” With that, he stalks into his dorm and with a lot more force than strictly necessary, throws the door shut behind him.

Gregory and Blaise look at one another and sigh.

  
***  
  


Standing by the Great Lake, Harry throws another pebble and watches as it skips across the murky, dark water.

He needs to clear his head before he can even start to think about how to deal with that DADA essay he still needs to write. He’s had the assignment all week, but he kept putting it off because he couldn’t concentrate long enough.

He still can’t, which is all Malfoy’s fault.

In a sense…

Harry has been feeling rather strange all morning and if he’s honest, for the majority of the past few days; perhaps even longer than that.

All because of Malfoy.

Things used to be simple on that front, when Harry still hated Malfoy — despised him and everything he stood for — and Malfoy hated him right back.

They had their daily routine of insults, the occasional physical brawl and now and again, things went a bit too far and on some occasions, even spun completely out of control.

Harry feels sick when he recalls how his impulsively cast _Sectumsempra_ almost killed Draco. Of course this occurred in dangerous times, under extraordinary circumstances, and there and then, Draco did seem like a genuine threat, but still...

Harry should have never cast that curse. He could have simply disarmed Draco, or somehow forced him to talk or... _something_.

Harry feels he should apologise for what he did that day and he will. Not just yet, however. He wouldn’t want to risk pouring more salt into open wounds. 

When he considers it, there are so many wounds, none of them fully healed, and underneath the surface, beneath that thick cloak of superiority and indifference Draco wears so well, he remains quite vulnerable.

They both do.

Looking back at the last seven years, Harry doesn’t know how, why or even when exactly things between them began to change, although they did seem to have a kind of unspoken understanding during the war; they seemed determined not to let the other die, no matter what.

And whether they were enemies, rivals, reluctant allies or (as they are now) friends, they were always actively aware of each other’s presence. Indifference is one thing that certainly never existed between them.

And now…

Harry is happy they’ve become so close, but he also wishes they could be more to each other than merely friends.

Holding Draco in his arms the other day felt incredibly right, as did that kiss he dreamt about, and every time Draco smiles at him, it's as though Harry's heart might burst right out of his chest.

He wants to be with him all the time, too, even if it’s just to sit somewhere in companionable silence.

It’s both a wonderful, exhilarating feeling and a total disaster waiting for the right moment to strike, and Harry hasn’t a clue what to do next.

_“You almost sound like you’re in love with that foul git!”_

Harry lets out a long, solemn sigh. "What if I am, Ron?" he whispers to himself. "What if I am?"

  
***

 

When Harry arrives at the Astronomy Tower late that night, Draco is sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading by the light of a large candle.

“Hello, Potter,” he says with a smile.  

“Hey.” Harry smiles back. “Sorry I’m a bit late; I had more homework than I thought.”

Draco grins. “And Granger wouldn’t let you leave before you’d done all of it?”

Harry sits down next to him. “She no longer keeps tabs on me like she used to, thank Merlin. Two or so years ago, that would’ve been completely true, though.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Oh, is that hot chocolate?” Harry says, gesturing towards the two steaming mugs to Draco’s right.

“That’s right. I made a detour to the kitchens before I came here. Not only were the elves only too happy to make that for us, they even brought it here themselves and spelled it so it’d stay warm until you joined me. They must be very fond of you!”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles as Draco carefully hands him one of the mugs. “And they like you too, you know."

Draco shakes his head and swiftly changes the subject. “What homework did you have, anyway?”

Harry sighs. “DADA essay from hell.”

Draco smirks. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“No, you’re not taking Defence,” Harry says, sipping from his mug. The chocolate is sweeter and even more delicious than he expected.

“I’ve had enough Dark Arts to last me a lifetime, Harry.” Draco smiles wryly. “Besides, the Ministry cretin teaching the subject this year was extremely rude to Mother when we first met him right after the war. There were _words_. It wasn’t pretty. So I don’t think it would have been a good idea for me to take his class anyhow.”

Harry grins. “Are there any other subjects you’re not taking?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“There’s Divination as well and of course Quidditch if that counts, but you knew that already.”

Harry nods. “I’m not taking Divination this year either. I don’t think I could handle another prophecy.”

“None of us could, Potter,” Draco remarks dryly and they both chuckle.

“You weren’t at dinner earlier,” Harry then says, serious again.

“No.”

Harry gives him a questioning look.

"Apart from the fact that I was still completely stuffed after all the treacle tarts and pudding you and I ate in the kitchen, I also had a long Firecall with my mother.”

Harry frowns. “Is she... Are you parents all right? Is there some kind of trouble?”

“No trouble,” Draco says with a smile. “On the contrary, they’re moving back to Wiltshire tomorrow. We were staying at our town house just outside Maidstone, you see, while Mother had the Manor completely redecorated. She couldn’t bear to live there again the way it was, not after everything that happened.”

Harry nods in understanding.

“She also suggested I come home for the Winter Hols.”

“Oh.” Harry tries to ignore the anxiety that statement fills him with. “Will you?”

“Probably. It’d be our first carefree family Christmas in… well, I can’t remember how many years now, and aunt Andromeda and Teddy will be there, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Mother has made it her mission to patch things up with her estranged sister. So far, so good, apparently, and I expect having the little boy around helps.”

“He’s my godson, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Harry forces a smile, but he can’t help the gnawing in his stomach or the sinking feeling in his heart when he thinks of being separated from Draco for two whole weeks — just how did he get this attached so quickly to someone he once loathed?

“How about you, Potter? Will you joining the Weasleys for Christmas?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’ll probably just stay here.”

“By yourself?”

“Oh, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other students around.”

Draco frowns.

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable at the Burrow,” Harry begins to explain. “It was awkward when I stayed there last, after Fred had died and in the aftermath of my break-up with Ginny. I felt like I was overstaying my welcome. I wasn’t, of course, not really, but it just didn’t seem right to keep hanging around there, so I moved to Grimmauld Place, where it was just me. Turned out I actually needed the space and solitude.”

“That last bit sounds very familiar,” Draco says with a small smile.

Unexpectedly, Harry shudders.

“What is it? Are you cold?”

“A bit,” Harry says. “The hot chocolate helps, though.”

“Hm,” Draco says. “I think we’ll have to find somewhere else to meet up. The nights are already getting a lot colder. Winter will be here before we know it.”

Harry nods. “I know of a place, but you might not want to go there. Bad memories and such…”

Draco sighs. “Terrible things happened in most of the places I know, even in my family home, even here. Dumbledore…” He trails off. “Where were you thinking of, exactly?”

“The Room of Requirement,” Harry says.

Draco ponders on that for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I think that should work. Who knows? We might even get some chairs to sit on. Would make a nice change.”

Harry grins.

“In the meantime, for the remainder of tonight, though,” Draco says and casts a warming spell over them both. “This should be a vast improvement.”

Harry feels the magic buzz around him as the chill leaves his bones. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, Potter.” Draco smiles and takes another sip from his hot chocolate.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Draco looks out of the French windows and lets his gaze rest on his mother’s rose garden. It looks tranquil and beautiful, as though this is just another ordinary day in a peaceful world.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

In reality, a ferocious war rages, destroying everything in its path. The future looks bleak, frighteningly close to hopeless.

At least Potter and his friends managed to escape. At least he won them some time.

_“Look a little more closely, Draco. Is that Harry Potter?”  
“I-I can’t be sure.”_

He wishes he could have done more, but his hands were tied. There was far too much at stake.

There still is.

"Ah, here you are, Draco,” a female voice calls out behind him.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and turns around. Bellatrix is standing there, all wild hair and wide eyes. Her hands rest on her hips and she has a dark expression on her face.

“You’ve really been a very foolish boy this time,” she tells him and lets out a small, shrill laugh.

His blood runs cold. “Aunt Bella?”

“You knew it was him, didn’t you?”

Her attempt at Legilimency fails – Draco’s father and godfather taught him well – but this doesn’t deter her in the slightest.

“You know,” she declares, swiftly advancing on him, “I may not be able to read your mind, but then I scarcely need to. Your little friend at school already spilled the beans about you. She was happy to tell me everything I wanted to know.”

Draco swallows thickly.

“About your… peculiar preferences, shall we say? And your improper, inappropriate infatuation with that filthy, worthless halfblood! I refused to believe her at first, and even if her claims were correct, I was convinced you would always put your family and your duty first, regardless of other desires. This is how you were raised, after all. But it seems Miss Parkinson was right. How unfortunate.”

Draco grits his teeth. _Treacherous wench —_ it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t utter a word, or allow his face to betray how he’s feeling. If the worst comes to the worst, it will be Pansy’s word against his and if necessary, he’ll deny everything, he’ll lie until he has no voice left.

“Alas, I cannot prove any of this,” Bellatrix continues, “and even if I could, you are still my blood, Draco, and moreover, you are the sole heir of a noble, ancient, important and _pure_ wizarding family, an asset, essential to the Dark Lord’s plans.” She comes even closer. Her face is right next to his. Her warm breath ghosts his left ear. “However, should you continue to disappoint us —disappoint _Him_ , you will leave me no choice; you will be severely punished.”

She kisses him on the cheek. “Think long and hard about that, won’t you, dearest, before you decide to be so foolish again?”

With that, she takes her leave.

Once the door is shut behind her, Draco lets out a strangled sob. His hands start shaking and soon he’s trembling from head to toe.

He’s still shaking a few moments later when he wakes up in his familiar dorm bed, his face streaked with tears.

_Damn it._

He won’t be able to catch another wink of sleep tonight, he never does after a nightmare like that, so he heads for the shower instead and lets the hot water soothe him

A quick _Tempus_ reveals it’s twenty to seven. Draco gets dressed and goes to the library. There, he opens a thick tome on Advanced Potions.

He doesn’t look up from his reading for a long time, not until the sound of a discreet cough breaks his concentration.

Hermione Granger is standing in front of him. “Have you finished with that one, Draco?” she asks, somewhat awkwardly, pointing at the Charms textbook that’s also on his table.

“Yes,” he replies. “Be my guest.”

Hermione gives him a guarded smile. “Thank you,” she says, picking up the book. She turns to leave, but then stops to face him again. “Um, you know, classes start in five minutes.”

Draco glances at the clock above the door. “Ah, so they do. Thanks, Granger. I think I lost track of time.”

Surprised, she nods, briefly smiles again, and walks out.

Draco gathers his things and leaves for Transfiguration.

 

 

***

 

 

“Has it ever occurred to you that I might not bloody want to?!” Harry Potter’s furious voice resounds through the Great Hall. When he realises people are staring, he gets up and stalks out.

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco frowns.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Gregory says, reaching for another bread roll.

“Trouble in paradise?” Blaise suggests with a smirk.

Draco sighs. He knows he should probably stay right where he is and not draw any attention to himself, but maybe Potter needs him; he did seem quite upset.

Draco looks around. People are already talking amongst themselves again. If he’s lucky, no one will take any notice of him.

“Excuse me,” he says, “I’ll see you all later.” He rises from his chair and heads for the door.

Blaise shakes his head in amusement. “Here we go again!”

Draco starts walking. He doubts Harry went up to the Astronomy Tower, so the lake is his best guess, especially on a sunny day like today.

He’s relieved to discover he was right.

Harry is standing there, fists clenched, glaring at the water as though it’s threatening to resurrect and unleash every single enemy he’s ever had to face.

“Potter?” Draco calls out.

Harry turns around.

“What’s happened? More crap from Weasley?”

Harry shakes his head. “Woundsworth.”

“The DADA fuckwit? What did he do?”

Harry sighs. “Lectured me – tore into me, more like – in front of the whole class. About my essay, my defence skills, which are shoddy according to him, my inability to answer one of his stupid questions, my choice in friends…”

“Friends?” Draco sneers. “You mean me. He doesn’t approve of you being friends with me?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, he does not.”

“How does he even know about it, though?”

Harry sighs and plops down on one of the benches. Draco sits down next to him.

“That night we went out flying, he saw us.”

“Ah.”

“He couldn’t punish us as we’re of age, so strictly speaking he can’t enforce the Hogwarts curfew, but he did want to make his opinion heard and warn me for ‘destructive influences detrimental to my well-being’.”

Draco chuckles. “Such big words from such a puny mind. Does he even understand their meaning?”

Harry shrugs. “Because of him, everyone in that class now knows you and I have been spending a lot of time together, though. I don’t know if you wanted to keep that a secret, but...”

Draco shakes his head. “I didn’t and I don’t care. We had our picture in _The Daily Prophet_ too, anyway, and the world didn't end. Harry, he’s a cretin. And really not worth getting this upset over…”

“I suppose not, but...” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Have you ever had the feeling you have no control whatsoever over your own life?”

Draco smirks. “That would be a rhetorical question, I presume?"

“Heh.” Harry smiles. “The thing is: everyone expects me to become an Auror, but according to Woundsworth, I don’t study hard enough, I fail to focus properly, I can’t control my emotions or my magic, and if I don’t pull myself together and really apply myself, I can forget all about ever realising those ambitions. Power, talent and reputation alone aren’t going to get me there, he said. So...”

Draco remains silent for a long moment, then says, “All right, so if I understand you correctly, these ambitions you’re referring to, they’re really expectations other people have of you?”

Harry nods.

“So how do you feel about the whole thing yourself?”

Harry sighs. “Honestly?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I-I don’t think I want to become an Auror at all, Draco.”

“Then the solution’s simple, isn’t it?”

Harry frowns.

“Don’t become an Auror.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“What else am I supposed to do? This is all I’ve ever done, fight Dark Wizards. And I hate it, if you must know, I’ve always hated it, but it’s the only thing I know how to do well. Academically, I’m a disaster. I suck at Potions. I screw up Transfiguration, Herbology and Charms all the time. The only other thing I’m halfway decent at is Quidditch. And I don’t see myself making a career of that either, too much press attention and such rubbish.”

“Listen,” Draco begins, gently taking one of Harry’s hands in his. “We’re not even twenty yet. We have our whole lives ahead of us, plenty of time to figure everything out, and there are career choices outside what’s being taught here, you realise. There are so many things you could do, open a Quidditch supplies shop, run a tavern, write a book, anything that takes your fancy…”

“What do you want to do?”

"Me?" Draco smiles. “I never imagined I’d actually survive the war, so I still have a lot of thinking to do on that front, myself. The plan for now is to do as well as I can, so I’ll have as many options as possible to choose from when I leave here.”

“Oh. Right.”

They sit in silence for a few moments. Harry is very much aware of how Draco is still holding his hand. He scoots a little to the right, wanting to be closer to him but not sure how to go about it in a subtle way. This would probably be easier if Draco were a girl – or perhaps not, because when was Harry even remotely good at this sort of thing? Frustrated with himself, he sighs deeply.

Draco frowns. “Woundsworth really got to you, didn’t he? Come on…”

Draco releases Harry’s hand and wraps an arm around him, pulling him close so Harry’s head rests against Draco’s shoulder.

Harry shuts his eyes. He feels Draco stroke his hair. Soft, slim fingers caress him ever so tenderly — _Oh wow._

His stomach flutters, his mouth is dry and his heart is in his throat. _Merlin,_ he wants to kiss Draco so badly it just about kills him. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare to. He’d hate to spoil what they have; it’s fragile, beautiful and so precious.

“Better?”

Not trusting his voice to work properly, Harry just murmurs, “Mmmm.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Please note the rating of this story has changed. Here be smut (M/M).

“Hermione, could I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” She puts her Transfiguration textbook down on a small side table. “What is it, Harry?”

“Um, in private, if you don’t mind?”

“Don’t worry about the others,” she says with a smile. “They just left for the Quidditch Pitch; they won’t be back for an hour at least.”

“Oh. How come you didn’t join them?”

“I have far too much to study still; this year’s workload seems to be never-ending.”

“All right.” He sits down next to her on one of the Common Room sofas.

“So, is there something wrong? You do look quite troubled...”

Harry takes a deep breath and gets straight to the point: “Okay, let’s say you weren’t with Ron or even interested in him, but there was this girl you were friends with.”

“Go on.”

“And eventually you realised you liked her as more than a friend. Er, well, basically, what would you do?”

Hermione smiles. “This is about Draco, isn’t it?”

Harry glances at his hands as a furious blush floods his face. “Yeah.”

“You should probably tell him how you feel about him, Harry.”

“B-But how can I? He wouldn’t... I mean, have you ever known him to have a boyfriend?”

Hermione ponders on that question for a moment. “I honestly couldn’t say. I never paid that much attention to him, except when he was pestering us. He seemed really close to Pansy Parkinson for a long time, but I don’t think they were ever a couple, just really good friends like you and I are.”

“He told me he never dated Pansy,” Harry says. “But I’m sure he’s had plenty of other girlfriends. Didn’t you notice, back in fourth year, how many different girls he danced with at the Yule Ball, even though he’d arrived there with Parkinson on his arm?”

Hermione shakes her head. “No, but you obviously did...”

“He wasn’t exactly subtle about it,” Harry says, sounding more defensive than he intended. “When I went to fetch Padma and Parvati’s drinks, he was getting cosy with one of the Beauxbatons students. They were talking in French and she was giggling a lot, so he was probably chatting her up.” Harry shakes his head. “I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Hermione points out. “Have the two of you ever discussed past relationships?”

“Not much, but…”

“But what?”

Harry lets out an exasperated sigh. “I just can’t risk it, Hermione. We get on so well now. Spending time with him makes me feel so... _happy_ , I think is the only way I can describe it. I don’t know what I’d do if he never spoke to me again and I couldn't bear it if we went back to the way we were before.”

“Does he really mean that much to you?”

“Yes. He means everything to me, Hermione.”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione sighs deeply and envelops her friend in a big hug.

 

 

***

 

 

Harry looks around the Room of Requirement and smiles approvingly. They’ve been provided with two large sofas, a table, the warmth of a crackling fireplace and just enough light from four large candles. It’s absolutely perfect.

He wonders where Draco is, why he hasn’t arrived yet, but then he spots him curled up on one the sofas, sound asleep, his head resting against a throw pillow.

Harry steps closer.

Draco looks young and innocent in slumber, as well as exceptionally good-looking. Harry can’t help staring at the small trail of light freckles across his nose, his porcelain pale complexion and his slightly rumpled hair gleaming in the candlelight.

Unable to resist, Harry hunches down and runs a hand along Draco’s cheek. The flawless skin is warm and soft.

Carefully, he lets a strand of hair glide between his fingers; it’s as silky as it looks and it smells of green apples.

Harry’s gaze lingers on Draco’s slightly parted lips. They’re probably warm and soft, too.

_If only he could..._

Harry suppresses a sigh. He’s completely smitten and only making matters worse by indulging himself like this — _damn it._

Just then, Draco’s eyes flutter open.

_Oh bugger_. Harry quickly scrambles backwards, unceremoniously landing on his rear.

At least Draco doesn’t notice.

“I must have dozed off. Sorry about that,” he says with a small smile before it occurs to him that Harry is sitting on the floor. “Potter, what on earth are you doing down there? We have two perfectly good settees here.”

“Er...” Harry replies feebly. “I-I dropped something.”

Draco raises a questioning eyebrow. “Did you manage to retrieve it?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles. “I got it.”

Draco doesn’t speak for a few moments. Just before he was fully awake, he sensed someone close – very close – to him gently, almost lovingly, touching his face and hair, but why would Potter do such a thing?

It must have been an extremely vivid dream, Draco decides, or somewhere between sleep and consciousness, his tired mind played a cruel trick on him.

“We have sweet tea today,” he says, snapping himself back to reality. “Chocolates, too,” he adds, gesturing towards the box on the table.

“The elves made us some chocolates?”

“No,” Draco replies with a grin. “Those are a gift from my mother.”

“She still sends you sweets?”

“Naturally. They have a tendency to vanish quickly, though, once they’re in my dorm. I probably rescued that lot just in time.”

Harry chuckles. He reaches out, chooses a chocolate and pops it in his mouth.

“These are great. Thanks,” he says before continuing in a more serious tone, “I noticed you missed dinner again.”

“And I see you’ve been keeping track of my eating habits again,” Draco retorts, but he smiles when he says it.

“Yeah, well,” Harry mumbles. “You should take better care of yourself.”

Draco frowns. “Oh come on now.”

“No, really, I worry about you.”

“Don’t, Harry. I’m fine. I promise.”

They both reach for the box at the same time and somewhere halfway, their fingers briefly brush against each other.

Harry yanks his hand back as though he just burned it. The simple, unexpected touch sent a strong spark from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It left him full of longing. 

Draco frowns. What just happened? Why is Harry acting so strangely all of a sudden? He won’t meet his eyes, just sits there staring at the floor, like he’s embarrassed—deeply ashamed, even.

“Potter?” Draco ventures. “Harry?”

After an endless minute, Harry looks up into concerned grey eyes. They’re beautiful; mesmerising.

Harry bites his bottom lip. He feels warm, too warm. His hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage. His trousers are suddenly too tight. He can’t take it anymore.

He launches himself forward, grabs Draco by the shoulders and kisses him hard.

Before Draco can kiss him back or indeed react in any way at all, an overwhelming feeling of panic sets in.

“Oh, no,” Harry mutters. “Oh shit! What have I done?”

He releases Draco and bolts out of the room.

 

 

***

 

 

“Potter! Could you bloody well stop for a minute?”

But Harry keeps running, through corridors, down stairs, not a clue where he’s headed, anywhere his feet will take him will do.

He messed up badly. He needs to get away. He can’t face the massive fight that will undoubtedly ensue. He doesn’t want to hear how revolting he is or that it’s all over, that they can’t possibly be friends anymore, not after a stupid stunt like that.

_“He means everything to me, Hermione.”_

How could he have been so dumb as to jeopardise everything because he couldn’t keep his hands or for that matter his mouth to himself?

He reaches a door at the far end of a corridor. He opens it and enters, only to realise he’s trapped— _of course he is._

Draco is right behind him. He, too, steps through the door. They’re in a bathroom. "Seriously, Potter?” He laughs without humour. “What are you playing at?”

Harry swallows thickly and turns around.

Draco advances on him. 

Harry steps backwards until his back hits a large sink and there is nowhere left to run to.

"Why did you kiss me?" Draco demands.

“I—“

“And moreover, I thought we were friends now,” he continues. “So why did you run from me afterwards?”

“We _are_ friends, Draco,” Harry says. His voice is shaky. His hands tremble. This is one conversation – one confrontation – he hoped to avoid.

“Then I shall ask you again, Potter: why?”

Harry blinks. Draco is standing right in front of him. He doesn’t appear to be angry or disgusted at least, but there is confusion in his eyes, and sadness, so much sadness.

Harry takes a deep breath. _You should probably tell him how you feel,_ Hermione suggested, and she’s usually right, even if this is one of the scariest things he’s ever had to do and it isn’t as though he frightens easily.

“I kissed you,” he says, “be-because, well, you were sitting there and it felt like I’d wanted to kiss you for absolutely ages because… the thing is…”

“Yes?”

“I’m in love with you, Draco,” Harry blurts out. “I fancy you like mad, actually, and I couldn’t stop myself and... Of course, I’d understand if you didn’t feel the same. I mean, you and me, for all these years, we’ve been…”

Draco doesn’t let him finish. He grabs Harry’s hands, pulls him close and kisses him on the lips.

Harry wraps his arms around Draco and kisses him back, softly at first, then fiercely, passionately deepening the kiss and savouring every second.

The sensations coursing through him are intense and brilliant. He doesn't think his heart has ever beaten this fast. Every fibre of his being seems to be on fire.

His hands wander down Draco’s back, underneath his shirt. The skin there is soft, too, and wonderful beneath his fingers.

Harry's eyes flutter shut. He trembles against the lean body that’s pinning him to the sink.

As if by their own accord, Harry’s hips begin to move against Draco’s.

“Draco...” Harry moans loudly, wanting more, so much more. He has never lusted after anyone this much — this _desperately_ – in his entire life.

Draco pulls away. His face is flushed, his breathing ragged. "Merlin, Harry, maybe we should slow down a bit. I'm in a right mind to take you here and now, right where you stand."

At those words, a delightful shiver runs down Harry’s spine. "What's stopping you?" he manages in a voice he barely recognises as his own.

Draco cups his face. "What we have," he replies, sounding breathless, "what we’ve become to each other, I don’t want to lose that. It’s the best thing, the only good thing actually, to have happened to me in a very long time."

“I don’t want to lose it either," Harry whispers, “but if you fancy me, too...”

“I do,” Draco says. It sounds a lot like a confession. “I have done for years now.”

Harry blinks. “Years?”

He softly kisses Harry’s forehead. “Mmm. You have no idea. So, do you really want us to…?"

“Yes, Draco. _Please_. I’m going mad.”

“Well.” Draco chuckles softly. “We can’t have that.” He casts a strong locking spell on the door and kisses Harry’s lips again.

Harry melts into the kiss and lets his hands wander down Draco’s torso once more, tugging him closer, closer.... _Oh fuck._ This isn't like anything he has ever experienced before.

"I want you," Draco whispers, gazing into Harry's eyes. “So much.”

Harry doesn't know what the right response to that is, so he takes one of Draco’s hands in his own and slowly guides it downwards.

Draco smiles as he feels Harry's clothed erection. He strokes it a few times, before undoing Harry's zipper.

Harry moans. Those slim, elegant fingers touching him _there_ , it’s almost enough to make him lose his mind.

Harry's trousers and boxers drop down to his ankles. Draco spins him around, so they’re both facing the sink and the large mirror behind it.

Draco takes off his own trousers and underwear, and mutters something Harry doesn’t quite catch. "Lubrication spell," he explains. 

A moment later, Harry gasps. Two fingers of Draco’s left hand are inside him, carefully stretching him, while Draco’s right hand strokes his cock.

Draco kisses a sensitive spot beneath Harry’s left ear. Harry moans again.

“Bend over slightly,” Draco whispers.

“Okay.”

Draco carefully pushes himself inside. "All right?"

"Yes."

"I’m not hurting you?”

“No.” Harry reminds himself to breathe. “It’s... different but fine.”

With one arm wrapped tightly around Harry’s waist, Draco slowly begins to move. He pumps Harry’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Harry grabs the sink with both hands to steady himself. 

They fall into a steady rhythm. Sighs and moans of pleasure fill the room.

"I’m not going to last long," Draco warns. “This feels... _fuck_... far too good.”

“Me neither," Harry whispers brokenly. “So… so close already... Yes! Draco! Oh!”

With a loud groan, Harry spills his release over Draco’s hand.

That's all it takes to trigger Draco’s own climax. Through lidded eyes, Harry watches Draco’s face in the mirror when he comes. It’s the most beautiful, the most erotic sight he has ever witnessed.

The room falls silent for a little while as both boys catch their breath.

Draco recovers first. He casts cleaning spells on Harry and himself and puts his discarded clothes back on.

Clumsily, his hands are still trembling, Harry pulls up his boxers and trousers, and turns around. He leans forward and kisses Draco on the lips. The kiss is full of emotion, as is the expression on his face. “That was bloody amazing.”

“Yes, it was.” Draco ruffles Harry’s hair. "But, tell me, if you wanted us to be like this, why didn’t you say anything sooner? Or give me a hint, something?"

Harry bites his lip. "Why didn’t you, if you’d fancied me for ages?"

Draco smirks. "I doubt an announcement like that would have gone down well three years ago. Besides, I was convinced you were completely straight."

Harry can’t help smiling at that. "Yeah, well, so was I up until a few weeks ago.”

Draco laughs, but only for a moment. “Wait. So this was your first time with…"

"With anyone, full stop.”

Draco frowns. "Really? You and Ginny Weasley never...?”

Harry shakes his head.

"But then... Wouldn't you have preferred—I mean, we rather rushed into it and in some old bathroom of all places..."

"It was brilliant just the way it was." Harry tenderly runs his hand along Draco's jawline. "And it was with you."

Too overcome with emotion to say anything further, Draco just wraps his arms around Harry and holds him tight.

For the longest time, they remain like that. Neither of them has any need for more words.

 


	10. Chapter 10

In his seat at the large oak table, Draco finds it increasingly hard to breathe.

He used to love this room. As a child, he spent countless hours here with colouring books and puzzles, and in the antique armchair by the window, his mother used to sit and read to him riveting tales of dragons, wizards and kings.

These days, this room represents a certain hell. It’s the place where the Dark Lord holds his all too frequent meetings. They’re sickening, humiliating and cruel, and every attendee doesn't necessarily make it out alive.

“We’ll gather here again at the same time tomorrow,” the Dark Lord announces. “I thank you all for your time and attention.”

Draco rises from his seat, but the relief he feels is only short-lived.

“Young Malfoy,” Voldemort says in a tone that’s both calm and chilling. “I fear I must detain you a moment longer. Kindly sit back down.”

Draco exchanges a brief look with his father. Lucius simply nods before leaving the room. There is nothing else he can do. The Dark Lord threatened them again. Once more, he expressed his grave disappointment in the Malfoys. He expected so much from this ancient, pureblooded wizarding family, but instead they fell short and continue to do so. This must change. If not, there will be severe consequences. Their lives are hanging by the thinnest thread.

Draco does as he’s told, folding his hands in front of him and silently willing them to stop shaking.

“Yet again you have let down your parents, neglected to do your duty and failed me personally,” Voldemort begins. “Draco, Draco, Draco… Let it be said, I’m a fair and merciful man, and a firm believer that for the shortcomings of the father, the son should not be blamed, particularly when the son still shows so much promise in spite of it all.”

Draco swallows hard.

“You’ve led a sheltered life, Draco. Your parents spoiled you, coddled you. You weren’t ready to kill, you were unable to be of any use to me at all. Such a regrettable, I daresay criminal waste of potential, of natural born talent.”

Draco braces himself. This, he’s quite certain, means his turn has come to be tortured, killed or both. He thinks of his parents and hopes they’ll at least be spared a similarly grim fate.

Instead, however, Voldemort informs him: “I have a new task for you, one you will hopefully manage to complete satisfactorily.”

“My Lord?” Draco says, surprised his voice still works.

“You will return to Hogwarts and there you will await my further instructions.” Voldemort pauses a beat and adds in a stern tone: “But make no mistake, my boy, if you wish to live to see your next birthday, you will not let me down this time.”

Draco suppresses a shudder. “No, My Lord, I won’t.”

Voldemort glares. “Now get out of my sight. You leave first thing in the morning.”

Draco doesn’t need to be told twice. His legs shake and his knees buckle as he hurries to his room.

On his way there, he can hear piercing screams. People are being tortured again: traitors and Muggles as well as unfortunate witches and wizards who tested the Dark Lord’s limited patience once too often.

Draco knows exactly what goes on in the dungeons — he's been forced to watch and on some occasions even participate in the atrocities — and he realises full well that one day soon, it could be him or his parents down there, tormented for days on end to then be forgotten and left to rot.

With trembling hands, he stuffs some clothes and school supplies into a large bag.  
  
He shuts his eyes and pictures Harry Potter’s face. Where is he? Is he safe? Did he make it back to Hogwarts unharmed? Does he truly possess the power to defeat the Dark Lord? Or all they all doomed?

Draco is startled by another bloodcurdling scream. He grabs his wand and casts a few silencing spells around his room so no more noise can get in or out.

The silence that follows is nowhere near as soothing as it might be.

Draco takes a deep breath. His bag is packed. He is ready. There will be no sleep tonight, not in these dire circumstances, so he’ll simply wait until someone comes to fetch him.

As the rush of adrenalin leaves his system, feelings of complete despair wash over him. He’s absolutely terrified. He has never felt this helpless in his entire life.

He throws himself onto his bed and cries.

“Draco!” he hears someone yell faraway, then closer, louder and again: “Draco!”

Someone shakes him by the shoulders. “Draco!”

He opens his eyes and looks straight in the concerned face of Gregory Goyle.

“Thank Salazar, Draco! I thought you’d never wake up!”

Draco blinks a few times. _Oh._ It was a dream— _only a dream_. He isn’t really back there and the Da—no, Voldemort was vanquished months ago.

He’s safe. So are his parents.

So is Harry.

_Harry, his precious Harry..._

“Are you all right, Draco?” Gregory enquires. “You look awful.”

“H-Had a nightmare,” Draco manages hoarsely. “A nasty one.”

Gregory hands him a glass of water. “Here.”

Draco takes a sip. “Thanks.”

"You were screaming bloody murder,” Gregory says. “It’s a good thing Blaise and Theo sleep like the dead.”

“Sorry I woke you, though,” Draco mutters.

Gregory shrugs. “Hardly your fault. Do you need anything else?”

Draco shakes his head. “No, but do you suppose there’s anyone in the showers yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure they’re free.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I’ll make sure no one goes in while you’re there.”

Draco gives his friend a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

 

  
***

 

  
Draco saunters into the Great Hall with Blaise, Gregory and Theodore in tow.

They all sit down in their usual seats.

A House Elf rushes forward and places a large bowl of fresh fruit in front of a baffled Draco.

Harry grins.

“Is that your doing, mate?” Ron, who followed Harry’s gaze to the Slytherin table, asks.

"Yeah,” Harry mumbles. He strongly hopes Ron won’t direct a barrage of questions at him now. That would be terribly awkward, especially since he hasn’t yet told his friends how his relationship with Draco has changed since last night. He’s waiting until he finds the right moment as well as the courage to do so. No doubt Hermione will be supportive — happy for him, even. Ron, on the other hand, is bound to be unimpressed and very likely to hit the ceiling.

“Draco doesn’t eat properly; he often skips meals,” Harry offers, hoping this explanation will suffice.

“Yeah? So let the git starve himself. It’s not your job to feed him.”

Hermione, who’s sitting across from them, promptly kicks Ron in the shins.

“Ow!” he says. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I suppose, but I still reckon he should get over himself. He’s not the only one who lived through a war and lost people close to him, you know. Maybe if he hadn’t been such an arrogant wimp all along...”

Harry doesn’t say anything to that. He’s no longer listening. He looks over at the Slytherin table again. Draco seems to be enjoying his breakfast.

Harry’s thoughts drift to the night before. They finally left the bathroom, hand in hand, and returned to the Room of Requirement where they finished off the tea and chocolates. Snuggled up together on one of the sofas, they talked for ages, only stopping to kiss, cuddle and just enjoy each other’s closeness.

Last night was easily one of the best of Harry’s life so far. The memory makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He never would have imagined someone would ever make him feel this happy, cherished or alive, least of all the boy who’d antagonised him for years.

Noticing someone’s gaze on him, Draco looks up. He smiles.

Harry smiles back.

 

  
***

 

  
“Whatever you do, Potter, I strongly advise you not to look in our cauldron,” Draco warns Harry, who just arrived in Potions class. “It’s not a pleasant sight.”

“All right,” Harry says, placing his satchel on the floor.

“The list of herbs we need is on the desk.”

Harry nods. “Okay.”

“Also...” Draco moves a step closer to Harry and glances around. When he’s certain no one is watching them, he briefly squeezes Harry’s hand and drops a featherlight kiss in his hair. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Harry grins from ear to ear and blushes, ever so slightly. He’s about to head for the supplies cabinet when he hears Hermione say: “This is so disgusting and awfully cruel, do they really have to use these poor creatures for...” She holds a scalpel in her hand but is reluctant to use it. “I-I just can’t.”

Neville, her Potions partner for today, also looks disturbed. Beheading Nagini in a victory-or-defeat, life-or-death situation was one thing; this is clearly different. He doesn’t move a muscle either.

“Draco,” Harry says softly, gesturing towards the duo.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

Harry gives him a beseeching look. “Please?”

Draco sighs. “Oh, very well. But you’ll owe me for this, Potter!”

He picks up his scalpel and walks over to the desk next to him. “Excuse me,” he says and starts chopping up the lizard heads.

“Be sure to count to twenty – slowly – between each new ingredient you add or this could get very ugly fast,” he tells a puzzled Hermione. “And always stir clockwise for this potion; it’s of utmost importance. Otherwise, everything will curdle… Right. There you go. All done.”

“Thank you, Draco.” Hermione smiles.

“Er, yeah, cheers,” Neville manages, utterly confused; whatever possessed Malfoy, of all people, to come to their aid like that?

Draco nods and goes back to his own cauldron.

Harry returns with the herbs they need and soon their potion is bubbling nicely and turning a bright orange colour as it should.

Harry is about to say something when a loud bang on the other side of the classroom sends him leaping back against the wall.  
  
“Weasley! You blithering, blundering, pathetic excuse for a wizard!” Blaise yells. “Just look what you’ve done, you savage!”

“Mr Zabini,” Professor Slughorn asks, surprisingly calm. “Is there a problem?”

Blaise smirks. He gestures towards the exploded cauldron, the purple goo on the walls and the sticky, smelly substance covering the two desks in front of him. “I’d say so, Sir. Yes.”

“And are you the one responsible for this shambles, Mr Weasley?”

Ron nods slowly, his cheeks flooding with colour. “I, er, put in some stuff in the wrong order, I think, Sir.”

“You neglected to add the Dandelion leaves before the Belladonna and then you simply flung in the Mandrake Root. Flung! It! In! Over your shoulder!” Blaise seethes. “What were you even thinking? This isn’t bloody Quidditch, you nincompoop!”

“Please settle down, Mr Zabini,” Slughorn says. “I’m afraid this will cost Gryffindor ten points. And do strive to be more diligent next time, Mr Weasley. We wouldn’t want any more unfortunate accidents now, would we?”

“No, Sir,” Ron mumbles. “Sorry, Sir.”

“He gets off lightly,” Draco whispers so only Harry can hear. “Severus would have deducted a hundred points, given Weasley a week’s worth of detention and made him scrub all the cauldrons and the entire classroom from top to bottom.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back. "Using only a tiny toothbrush.”

Draco sniggers.

"Let’s see how everyone else did,” Slughorn says and makes his rounds of the classroom.

When he reaches their cauldron, Harry and Draco stand up straight and school their faces back into a neutral expression.

“Good work once again, Gentlemen.”

Slughorn bestows high praise upon Hermione and Neville’s potion too before he returns to the front of the class and declares: “All right, you’re all dismissed; the elves will want to clean up here before my next lesson.”

Harry and Draco look at one another and smile.

“We’re meeting tonight, right?” Harry asks softly.

Draco reaches out and squeezes Harry’s hand again. “Of course.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

“This is getting extremely tiresome, you know,” Draco tells the owl when it swoops down to force another unwanted letter on him. “Yes, you bothersome beast, go ahead, give it here, if you absolutely must.”

Happy to have delivered its missive without any complications for a change, the bird hoots loudly and flies off to the kitchens for a well-deserved treat.

Studying the envelope in his hands, Draco sighs deeply.

He supposes his friends are right. Pansy will keep trying to contact him until she receives some kind of response, but given the way she betrayed him, getting back in touch with her is something he refuses to even consider.

She was the first person he confessed his feelings for Harry Potter to. She thought he was being foolish and naïve, she warned him nothing good would come of it; he should put Potter out of his mind, he was only setting himself up for a world of hurt.

For the longest time, that prediction rang true.

She watched him suffer through blind rage and crippling jealousy because Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were Potter’s best friends while he was nothing to Potter, not even dust under his worn-out trainers. She assured him, time and again, that he was worth ten Weasleys and twenty Grangers, and Potter was a moron and a half for not realising as much.

She listened to him rant and rave after he’d seen Harry Potter kissing Ginny Weasley and why—yet again—did it have to be a sodding _Weasley_ anyway?

She visited him in the hospital wing after he’d been hit by the _Sectumsempra_ curse. She sat quietly by his bedside for hours, holding his hand.

She was the closest thing he ever had to a sister. Sometimes he misses that – misses _her_.

But there is no way back. She showed her true colours eventually. She broke his heart. The Pansy he thought he knew probably never even existed.

He shakes his head and places the letter in his cloak pocket to dispose of later.

When, a few minutes later, he walks into the Room of Requirement, Harry is already there, seated on one of the sofas.

Draco smiles. The inside of the room looks exactly the same as it did yesterday, except for one addition. “I see we have a bed,” he remarks, smirking. He takes off his cloak and drapes it over the back of the unoccupied sofa.

“Er, yeah.” Harry feels himself blush. “I didn’t ask for it, though. It was just there when I came in.”

Draco chuckles. “The room must be onto us, then.”

He sits down next to Harry and kisses him softly on the lips. “Mmm, I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he says.

“Me too,” Harry admits in a whisper.

They kiss again, slowly, letting the sensation linger a while before they break apart.

“There’s tea,” Harry says, “and treacle tarts.”

“I did have dinner, you know,” Draco points out, but picks a tart off the plate anyway.

"Yes, I saw you."

“Incidentally, while we’re on the subject of food: Blaise would like to put in an order for a free fruit bowl tomorrow morning; no pineapple.”

Harry snorts. “Zabini can do one.”

Draco laughs. “He was pretty livid earlier, though.”

“Because of what happened in Potions?”

Draco nods. “He’s aiming for high marks and extra credit this year, but Weasley seems intent on bollocksing that up. This wasn’t the first of their potions he ruined, in case you were wondering; the other fuck-ups just weren’t as spectacular. It almost makes one wonder: is Weasley really that thick or does he do it on purpose?”

Harry is quick to leap to his best mate’s defence. “Ron would never...!”

“Really that thick, then.” Draco sniggers. “Glad we’ve got that settled.”

“Hey! I never said that!”

Draco laughs.

Realising somewhat belatedly what’s going on, Harry shakes his head. “ _Bugger_. I walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”

Draco nods smugly.

“You, Draco Malfoy, are still a prat, just so you know.”

“Perhaps.” He grins, reaching up to ruffle Harry’s hair. “But you, Harry Potter, are still far too much fun to tease as well. You only have yourself to blame.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but can’t help grinning back.

Draco pops another treacle tart into his mouth. “These are really good.”

“Yeah, they’re my favourites, actually.” Harry takes a sip from his tea. “What’re yours?”

“Anything with lots of dark chocolate in it, I suppose.”

“Dark chocolate.” Harry grins. “I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“I dropped out of DADA this afternoon.”

Draco’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really? How did Woundsworth take it?”

“Not too well.” Harry smiles wryly. “He gave me this whole lecture about how I’m throwing away my future and wasting a brilliant opportunity to keep making a difference in the Wizarding World.”

Draco sighs.

“As soon as I could get a word in edgewise, I reminded him that he’d told me himself, only a few days ago, how hopeless I am at Defence, so what would even be the point of continuing?”

“Right. And what did he have to say to that?”

“Apparently, I’m not that rubbish after all, but I do lack discipline and motivation, and I don’t apply myself enough. The only reason he was on my case so much, he said, was to get me to push myself harder.”

Draco smirks. “That’s actually rather tragic.”

“Yeah, well, it’s over with now. No more DADA and no more Woundsworth for me, thank Godric!”

Draco nods. “Listen,” he begins with a small, uncertain smile. “Since we seem to be exchanging announcements, I think I may have to tell my parents about us.”

Harry coughs. A mouthful of tea almost goes down the wrong way. “Why?” he manages.

“Around here, secrets don’t tend to stay secret for very long,” Draco answers simply, “and I wouldn’t want my parents to find out from someone else. Mother especially would be very disappointed and upset with me that I didn’t confide in her first.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry replies hesitantly.

“Besides,” Draco continues. “I received another Owl from her this afternoon, about Christmas Hols.”

Harry’s stomach drops.

“And I was wondering...” He takes Harry’s hands in his. “I mean, obviously I’d understand if you said no; the place hardly conjures op pleasant memories and there’s also my father’s presence to consider, but...”

“Yes?”

“How would you feel about joining me at the Manor for Christmas?”

Harry blinks. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’d have to ask my parents first, of course, but I see no reason for them to refuse.”

Harry frowns. “I do. Your father hates me, for starters. He’ll hex me into oblivion as soon as he sees me stepping through the front gates.”

Draco smiles. “No, he won’t. Father has been... _re-evaluating_ a lot of his opinions of late. That, and he’s well aware I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you; if you hadn’t saved me from that fire...”

“Yeah, but still, is he also all right with you bringing a bloke home instead of a girl, regardless of who it is?”

“I came out to my parents when I was sixteen,” Draco replies. “They—Honestly, Father wasn’t exactly thrilled at first. He had always expected me to marry a Pureblood witch some day and produce an heir, but he has since resigned himself to the fact that this will never happen.”

Draco pauses a beat, then continues, “I suppose the war mellowed him too. It helped put things into perspective. Our family made it out alive; the three of us are still together and free. When you consider that, a great deal of what mattered so much a few years ago seems almost insignificant now.” He takes a deep breath. “At any rate, please think it over and if you like, I’ll talk to Mother.” He reaches up a hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. “We could have a lot of fun, you know: go flying, take sleigh rides around the grounds if there’s snow, and simply spend a lot of time together, just the two of us. You’d also be able to see Teddy and get to know Aunt Andromeda a bit better.”

Harry bites his lip. The thought of staying at Malfoy Manor for two weeks is daunting to say the least, and if he does accept Draco’s invitation, there’s also a good chance he’ll end up offending the Weasleys because they invited him for Christmas too but he turned them down.

On the other hand, the alternative would involve being apart from Draco that whole time, something he’s been dreading ever since he first learned of Narcissa’s Christmas plans.

If Lucius manages to behave himself, staying at the Manor probably won’t be too bad, Harry reasons, and if Hermione can help the Weasleys understand his decision, something she’ll hopefully be willing to do…

“All right,” Harry says at last. “If your parents don’t mind me being there, I’d be happy to spend the Holidays with you.”

Draco smiles then, a dazzling smile that makes Harry’s heart jump.

Their gazes lock. Harry leans forward and kisses Draco on the lips. He reaches up a hand and runs it through soft, blond hair, happy he’s allowed to do so now.

Draco lays a hand on Harry’s left knee. “Fancy testing out the bed?” he asks with a devious smile. “It would be a shame to just leave it standing there, unused.”

Harry chuckles. “And kind of rude as well, seeing how it’s been provided for us especially.”

“Quite.”

They walk over to the bed, kick off their shoes and sit down facing each other, their knees touching.

Leaning closer, Draco kisses a trail along Harry’s jawline. His right hand slips under Harry’s T-shirt, his fingers leaving goose bumps in their wake as he caresses every inch of skin he can reach.

The young men share a deep kiss that leaves them both flushed.

Draco finds himself mesmerised by how gorgeous a vision Harry makes with his hair tousled, his eyes wide and an excited blush on his cheeks.

Harry pulls his T-shirt over his head. “Take off your shirt too?” he whispers.

Draco hesitates. “I want to, but...” He glances down at his left forearm and sighs.

Harry bites his lip. “I’ve seen your Mark before,” he points out in a soft tone. “The night Dumbledore…” He doesn’t say the rest of the words; he can’t bring himself to utter them.

Draco swallows a sudden lump in his throat. “Perhaps, but...” He averts his eyes in shame. “The thing is just so… _hideous_ and so am I after everything...”

“Hey,” Harry whispers. “Believe me, you’re anything but that. Here, let me...”

He slowly unbuttons Draco’s shirt and carefully slides it off the boy’s shoulders, freeing one arm at a time, first the right, then the left.

Draco trembles slightly and although Harry gives him plenty of opportunity to say “Stop,” doing so never occurs to him.

Harry takes hold of Draco’s left arm and gazes down at the Dark Mark. It looks just like a harmless Muggle tattoo now, albeit an ugly one. Harry gently traces its outlines with his index finger. The skin underneath feels warm and soft. Harry bends forward and kisses it softly.

He pauses a moment to look up at Draco’s face. The myriad of raw emotions reflected there almost takes his breath away.

“Harry,” Draco chokes out, his voice wavering. “I bloody love you, do you know that?”

Harry wants to say something, reciprocate the sentiment, but he doesn’t get the chance. Draco pushes him down onto the bed, pins him against the mattress and captures his lips in a searing kiss.

“Too many clothes,” Draco says huskily when, after a small age, they break apart again.

He sits up and undresses completely.

Harry follows his example, then lies down again and pulls Draco back on top of him. They share another deep kiss.

Draco’s hands wander downwards, exploring Harry’s chest. His lips leave Harry’s mouth. He begins kissing Harry’s jaw and neck instead.

Harry moans. His hands slide down Draco’s shoulders and back.

Draco kisses Harry's chest, briefly flicking his tongue over each nipple, before he makes his way down Harry’s abdomen and takes the hard length into his mouth.

Harry’s breath hitches. “Fuck! Draco..."

His hips buck upwards of their own accord. Suddenly everything is hot and incredibly intense, and amazing though this feels, Harry doesn’t want it to be over, not just yet.

“Draco!” he says urgently. “Wait! You-You’re going to make me come before you’re even inside me.”

Draco stops what he’s doing and looks up, into Harry’s eyes. “You want me inside you?”

“God, yes!”

"All right. Turn over, onto your stomach, that'll probably be the easiest way for me to..."

"No," Harry says quickly. "I-I want to be able to see your face while we…”

Draco smiles. "Stay on your back, then. Let’s see how we can make this work…” He frowns. “Maybe lift your hips a bit? Yes, that's better.”

“Haven’t you ever done it like this before?” Harry asks, surprised.

“I’m afraid not.” Draco smiles. “I’m not that experienced either, you know.”

“H-How many?” Harry blurts out without thinking.

“Before you, you mean?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. But you... you don't have to say if you don't want to. I mean..."

“Only one, but he was just an acquaintance I had a one-night-stand with right after the war. I was blind drunk when it happened too, so honestly, I don’t think he counts for much.”

“So no relationships? Or...?"

“Hardly.” Draco chuckles. “I was up to my neck in Dark Arts and obsessed with you. I didn’t have the slightest interest in that sort of thing. Of course had you ever propositioned me…”

“You would have killed me,” Harry deadpans.

Draco grins. “We will never know.” He mutters a spell before slowly pushing himself inside Harry. "All right?"

"Yeah. Fine."

Draco changes his position a little, supporting his weight with his left arm, while his right hand reaches down to stroke Harry's cock.

Draco begins to move, as slowly as he can manage. It isn’t easy to hold back. He’s unbelievably turned on and the delicious sounds Harry makes every time he thrusts into him don’t exactly help his self-control.

Harry groans and grabs Draco’s shoulders. "Kiss me again?"

Draco leans down for a long, lingering kiss. "I'm going to go faster now. Harry.”

"Yes. _Please_.” Harry moans loudly. He clutches at Draco with all his might.

Draco thrusts even harder, going as deeply as he can, almost losing himself to the sensations. He hopes he’ll be able to last long enough for Harry to come first. He grits his teeth and silently tells himself not to give in, not just yet.

“Draco... Yes!” Harry groans. He feels like he’s on fire. Between the warm hand expertly rubbing his cock, the wonderful stimulation deep inside of him and the sight of Draco moving on top of him, his face a picture of longing and lust, it’s all too much. With a final moan, he lets go.

Draco shudders in response. He manages two more thrusts before his own orgasm overwhelms him. It’s even more brilliant than the last time.

Carefully, he pulls out and rolls off Harry, draping an arm over him.

"Draco?” Harry asks softly a few minutes later.

“Mmm?”

“Do you suppose we could stay and sleep here?”

“I don’t see why not. The room will remain like this for as long as we’re in it.” He bites back a yawn and continues. “I’ll have to set an alarm, though, so we don’t oversleep. I wouldn’t want to miss any classes tomorrow.”

“We have a clock?”

Draco chuckles. “No, but I do have a wand. Wake-Me-Up spells, they are, in fact, a thing.”

“Right.” Harry grins sheepishly. “Of course.”

“An hour before breakfast, that should give us plenty of time.” Draco reaches for his wand. He casts the necessary spell followed by two cleaning spells and then looks at Harry. “Shall I take your glasses?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Draco places them on the small bedside table.

Harry slides in between the sheets he was lying on top of. Draco does, too, and scoots closer to Harry. Harry snuggles against Draco’s chest, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. Draco wraps an arm around him and casts a quick “ _Nox_ ”.

The candles go out, leaving the glow of the crackling fireplace as the only light in the room.

“Draco,” Harry whispers into the comfortable silence. “I-I just wanted to tell you...”

“Mmm?”

“What you said earlier...” Harry gathers his courage and finally utters the words: “I love you, too.”

Draco feels as though his heart just skipped a beat. Smiling from ear to ear, he tightens his hold on Harry, drops a kiss in his hair and replies softly, “You mean the world to me, you know.”

With a contented sigh, Draco closes his eyes. He's sound asleep within minutes.

Harry follows him into slumber.

No bad dreams come that night.


	12. Chapter 12

Feeling a warm chest pressed against his back and soft hair tickling his left shoulder blade, Harry sighs happily. If someone had told him a year ago that one morning he’d wake up naked in Draco Malfoy’s arms and be perfectly content about it, he’d have laughed in their face or possibly thrown a nasty hex their way, but here and now, there is nowhere in the whole wide world he’d rather be.

“Draco,” Harry whispers. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm, unless this is an exceptionally brilliant dream.”

Harry chuckles softly. “I’m pretty sure it’s real.”

Draco smiles. He kisses the back of Harry’s neck. “Good morning, then.” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice. Slowly, he lets his hand that was resting on Harry’s waist wander downwards.

Harry feels those soft, skilled fingers on his cock again. They’re stroking him lightly, almost teasingly. His heart begins to race.

Harry reaches his right hand out behind him. He starts touching Draco’s dick in the same way he likes to fondle his own. He’s improvising and a little unsure of himself – being this intimate with someone is still quite new, after all – but judging from the enticing sounds Draco is making, he’s on the right track.

Harry increases the pace and pressure of his movements.

Draco wraps his free arm more tightly around Harry and grabs Harry’s left hand. He’s close— _so close._

“Come for me, Draco,” Harry whispers.

And Draco does, squeezing the hand he’s holding and practically screaming as he spills his release. He almost takes Harry over the edge with him.

Then Draco’s fingers still. He lets go of Harry’s cock, and hand, and scoots backwards a little.

“Hey!” Harry protests, sounding disappointed and just a bit petulant. “What ‘re you...?”

Draco grins. “Hush. There’s something I want to do for you. You’ll like it, I promise. Roll onto your back.”

Harry does. Draco plants a tender kiss on his lips, kisses a trail down his body and finally takes Harry’s dick in his mouth.

Harry gasps. He’s already rock hard and only a few moments ago, he was on the brink of climaxing, so he knows he won’t last long, not while Draco is sucking him like that and doing those amazing things with his tongue — _Oh fuck._

Harry clutches at the sheet underneath him and throws his head back. He reaches out, grabs one of Draco’s hands and holds onto it tightly. “D-Draco,” he warns. “I’m... _aaah_... if you don’t… it’ll be... _oh God_... in your mouth...”

Draco looks up for a moment but he doesn’t pull away or stop what he’s doing. “It’s all right, Harry,” he whispers. “Let go.”

The words are barely spoken or Harry comes hard.

Draco swallows as much as he can and uses the back of his hand to wipe the rest off his mouth and chin. The gesture isn’t exactly dignified or elegant and truth be told, he feels like a clumsy idiot, but when he sees the blissful smile on Harry’s face, he no longer cares about any of that.

“Bloody hell,” Harry manages. “Draco, tha-that was... absolutely brilliant.”

Draco grins smugly and squeezes Harry’s hand that’s still clasping his own. “Told you.”

“I definitely need a shower now, though,” Harry mutters.

“We both do,” Draco says. He sits up, grabs his wand from underneath the pillow and casts two cleaning spells before handing Harry his glasses. Then he glances at his wand again. They have two more minutes before the alarm is set to go off.

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ ”

Draco climbs out of bed and gets dressed.

Harry follows his example.

While Draco is fastening his cloak, Harry notices Pansy’s letter slip out of one of the pockets.

“You dropped something,” he says, stepping forward to pick up the envelope.

Draco sighs. “I won’t be needing that. Just chuck it in the fireplace.”

Harry throws him an incredulous look. “Seriously? Aren’t you at least going to open it and see what it says?”

Draco shakes his head. “It contains absolutely nothing I’d care to know about.”

Now fully dressed, he walks closer to Harry and wraps his arms around him. “Really, burn the damn thing; it’s of no importance. I’ll see you at breakfast, all right?”

“Okay,” Harry says, returning the embrace.

Draco kisses Harry on the cheek once more and heads for the Slytherin section, hoping to be able to shower and change before any of the others are up and about.

Harry looks down at the letter in his hands. Part of him is well aware he should probably do as Draco requested — this is, after all, none of his business — but on the other hand, he remains a curious Gryffindor and regardless of what Draco says, whatever’s in the letter might be important.

His mind made up, Harry rips open the envelope.

 

***

 

His head still reeling from what he just read, Harry returns to Gryffindor Tower. The contents of the letter knocked him for six, even though he barely knows the girl who wrote it. He never even had a civil conversation with her.

The last time they spoke must have been back in sixth year, a few hours after Harry cast the _Sectumsempra_ curse.

 

_Overwrought with guilt and – to his own astonishment – a fair amount of worry as well, Harry makes his way down another staircase. He carefully pushes the heavy doors open and sneaks into the hospital wing, only to bump squarely into Pansy Parkinson._

_Clearly she knows all about his Invisibility Cloak because she pulls it off him without hesitation. With surprising strength for someone so small, she shoves him back, all the way out into the main corridor._

_“Come to finish what you started, Potter?” she asks him with a furious glare._

_“No, I-I just wanted to check if Malfoy’s okay. Is he?”_

_“He will be,” she snaps, placing her hands on her hips. “No thanks to you, you bastard. You could have killed him!”_

_“Look, Pansy, he tried to—“_

_“I don’t give a flying fuck what he tried, Potter! I don’t want you anywhere near him and he certainly doesn’t either. You have no business being here. You’ve caused enough damage.”_

_Harry swallows thickly._

_“So sod off back to Gryffindor right this instant. Or I will scream,” she threatens, “and I’ll tell Professor Snape you tried to curse me too!”_

_“What?!”_

_“I mean it, Potter. Get out of here!”_

  
So Harry left. It wasn’t the bravest course of action, certainly. He could have easily disarmed her had he wanted to – she was hardly a tough match for him – but something about her attitude made him retreat. Not to mention, she did have a point. His presence at Draco’s bedside was neither wanted nor needed. It probably wouldn’t have been appropriate, either; he was the only reason Draco was even there, after all.

Looking back, Harry is certain Pansy Parkinson never liked him one bit, and he’ll never forget how enthusiastically she shouted out his location when Voldemort was after him, but still…

She’s Draco’s friend, or she used to be, and knowing what he does now, Harry has no other option but to intervene.

 

***

 

Draco and Gregory gather their things. Charms class just ended, and they are about to go to the Great Hall for lunch.

Harry takes a deep breath and walks over to them. “Draco,” he says. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Draco frowns, wondering why Harry looks so troubled; he was fine when they parted this morning; he seemed very happy, even. “Yes, of course.”

“Somewhere private?”

Draco nods. He turns to Gregory. “I’ll see you in the Hall, all right?”

“Sure,” Gregory says, taking his leave.

Draco follows Harry into an empty classroom. They grab two chairs and sit down across from one another, their knees almost touching.

“So, Harry,” Draco enquires. “What’s wrong? Woundsworth not being a pain in the neck again, I hope?”

Harry shakes his head. “Er,” he utters awkwardly. “You know that letter you dropped this morning?”

Draco sighs. He can already sense where this is headed and he doesn’t like it one bit. Meddling Gryffindor goody-two-shoes always sticking their noses in where they shouldn’t. “Would this be the letter I specifically instructed you to burn?”

“Er, yeah, that’s the one,” Harry replies sheepishly.

“Instead you opened and read it, didn’t you?” Draco says, his voice laden with irritation.

“I did,” Harry answers, bracing himself for an inevitable outburst, “and I reckon you should too; she—”

“Potter!” Draco cuts him short. “Whatever Pansy has to say in her defence, assuming that’s what this is all about, nothing changes the fact that she’s a treacherous two-faced bitch and I’ll have nothing further to do with her.”

Harry inhales sharply. He’d hate to get into some ugly argument with Draco again. As far as he’s concerned, they had enough fights these past seven years to last them a lifetime and he certainly doesn’t want to risk messing up this beautiful relationship they’ve built.

So he remains calm as he replies, “Fair enough, but what about him?” He hands Draco the photograph Pansy included in her letter.

Draco frowns as he looks at the chubby, dark-haired baby clutching the stuffed dragon toy.

“And who might this be?” he snaps. “Please don’t tell me this is some pathetic attempt at blackmail and this child is supposedly mine. I never slept with the blasted girl!”

Harry grits his teeth. Harbouring blind hatred and holding onto bitter grudges are two things Draco Malfoy does extraordinary well, almost to the point of having turned them into an art form; Harry should know.

He keeps that opinion to himself, however, and instead replies in a neutral tone: “That’s Vincent; she named him after his dad.”

“Vincent?” Draco’s eyes grow as wide as saucers. 

Harry nods. “It’s all in her letter. She got pregnant last October, but hid it with a glamour to protect herself and her reputation. The Death Eaters somehow found out, though.”

Draco’s blood runs cold. He can already guess the rest of the story.

“They threatened to kill her unborn child unless she cooperated with them.” Harry takes a deep breath. “She swears she never meant to hurt you, Draco. She didn’t volunteer to share the information she did, to tell them all those things about you. She had no choice. They were going to force this potion down her throat and…” Harry trails off.

“Sweet Merlin.” Draco rakes a trembling hand through his hair. All his anger has ebbed away. Instead he feels sad, guilty and a bit nauseous.

“Did you know she and Vincent Crabbe...?” Harry asks, because he certainly never noticed.

“Yes. They had this ‘on and off’ kind of relationship for years.”

“She’s really determined to make amends,” Harry says, carefully. “She misses you a lot and she’s lost almost everyone else. Her boyfriend's dead, her father's imprisoned in Azkaban and her mum's at St Mungo’s, in the same ward as Neville’s parents. She was hit by a nasty curse; no one knows if she’ll ever recover.”

“All right.” Draco inhales sharply. “I suppose you’d better show me that letter, then.”

With trembling hands, Draco reads Pansy’s words. By the time he’s done, there are tears in his eyes.

“She would like to meet with me,” he says. “I suppose I could invite her to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Yes, you should.”

Draco looks at him. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

Harry smiles and takes Draco’s hands in his. “It’s not too late to fix it.”

“What I don’t understand, though: why didn’t she Owl Greg, Blaise, Theodore or even Daphne when she never heard back from me? I’m sure none of them has a clue what happened either. We all assumed she was enrolled at one of the foreign Wizarding schools, like most of the Slytherins who didn’t return to Hogwarts. No one knew she was really staying with her aunt in Falkirk.”

Harry shrugs. “I guess you’ll have to ask her about that when you see her.”

Draco nods.

For a few moments, they sit in contemplative silence, holding hands.

“We’d best get to the Great Hall,” Draco says. “Greg’s waiting for me. I’ll Owl Pansy right after lunch.”

Harry nods. At the sight of Draco’s concerned face he remarks softly, “I’m sure the two of you will work it out.”

Draco gives him a small smile and leans in for a kiss. “I hope you’re right.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Harry and Draco get to the Great Hall, all the teachers and most of the students have already left. Only Ron, Hermione, Gregory and a handful of first and second years are lingering on.

Fortunately, the coming hour is a free study period for the eighth years, so there is no need to rush.

Draco gives Harry a small parting smile before he walks to the Slytherin table and takes his usual seat next to Gregory.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says. He selects two apples from the fruit basket and examines them carefully before slicing them into pieces.

“No problems, I hope?” Gregory asks.

“Not as such,” Draco says. “But there was another Owl from Pansy yesterday. Harry ended up reading it.”

Gregory frowns. “You mean, by accident? Or did you change your mind about how to handle her letters?”

“The damn thing fell out of my pocket when I was getting dressed this morning,” Draco replies with a slight smile. “I told Harry to burn it, but bullheaded Gryffindors being what they are...”

Gregory does a double take. “Hang on!” he says. “When you were getting dressed this morning? Draco, you make it sound like the two of you...” He gives his friend a meaningful look.

“Do I?” _Oops._ Draco hadn’t intended on telling Gregory yet, but now he inadvertently has – clearly, trying to hold a conversation while your head is filled with daydreams about the previous night and morning isn’t a terribly brilliant idea – he sees no reason to lie either. “Well, Greg, in that case,” he says matter-of-factly, “it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

Gregory blinks. “You and Potter? Are you kidding me?”

Draco shakes his head, unable to keep the smug grin off his face. “No, Greg, I’m entirely serious.”

“Wow. Since when?”

“If you absolutely must know, the day before yesterday.”

Gregory smiles. “It’s not that surprising, I guess, although I never expected him to swing that way.”

“Neither did he,” Draco replies dryly, then adds in a more serious tone: “I’d greatly appreciate if you kept this to yourself for now, though, if you would. I still haven’t told my parents and you know how fast gossip travels around here.”

“Your parents? Merlin! Lucius will have a fit, I’ll bet.”

“Perhaps…” Draco smiles. “But even so, they should still hear it from me first.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.”

"Thank you.”

“So,” Gregory changes the subject. “What about Pansy’s letter?”

“Right.” Draco takes a deep breath and begins to explain.

 

***

 

“What did you want with the Ferret right after Charms, Harry?” Ron asks, munching on a large chocolate muffin. “Missed him already, did you?”

Harry frowns. “What? And stop calling him that!”

“The two of you have been attached at the hip lately, mate.” Ron sneers. “In fact, I’m surprised you’re still sitting here with us, and not over there next to His Highness.”

“Ronald!” Hermione cuts in sternly. “We’ve already discussed this.”

“Yeah, and?” he retorts sharply. “Harry’s supposed to be our best friend, but we barely see him anymore. I haven’t a clue where he was all of last night, definitely not in his bed, probably out flying with bloody _Malfoy_ again.” Ron spits out Draco’s last name like it leaves a foul taste in his mouth. “He came staggering in this morning just in time for a quick shower before breakfast. He looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards or something. I guess we’re just not good enough for you anymore, are we, Harry? No, you’d rather spend all your free time with the pompous dickhead who bullied us for years.”  
  
Harry doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead he slams his right fist down hard, making all their plates, cups and cutlery rattle. He gets up, strides to the Slytherin table and sits down next to Draco, who raises a puzzled eyebrow but quickly assesses what’s going on. “Ah, there is a rabid weasel in the vicinity. Again.”

Harry only nods. He doesn’t want to speak; he’d only yell and possibly unleash some accidental magic in the process. No one needs that.

Draco offers him an apple slice. Harry accepts it with a weary sigh.

“Don’t you dare, Ronald! Stop right there! Oh for heaven’s sake, you’ll only make things worse!” Hermione yells, but to no avail...

Ron stomps over to the Slytherin table, Hermione on his heels, and places himself right in front of Draco. “So what is it exactly you want from Harry, Malfoy? Is this all part of some bigger prank or are you just bored without your little slag around to keep you entertained so you’ve latched onto my best mate instead?”

“My _what_ now, Weasley?” Draco snaps before he can stop himself.

“You heard me clearly the first time,” Ron says. “Your _slag_. Speaking of: where is Pansy Parkinson these days? Finally cultivated some good taste and grew a couple of braincells and dumped you, did she?”

Draco takes a deep, calming breath.

“Ron!” Hermione shouts again, her exasperation increasingly evident in her voice.

He ignores her. “Maybe we should find you a girlfriend, Harry, maybe then you’d come back to your senses and quit hanging around with Ferrets.”

Gregory bites back a chuckle. If he ever had any doubts before, they just flew out of the castle and all the way to the other side of the world; Ron Weasley is an idiot.

“Ronald!” Hermione calls out once more.

Draco takes another deep breath. He knows he promised Harry he wouldn’t get into any kind of brawl with Weasley, but right now Weasley is making it extremely difficult to keep that promise.

It’s Harry who speaks next, however, or rather yells as he leaps up from his chair. “What the hell is wrong with you now, Ron?! I thought you didn’t mind me and Draco getting on! So why are you acting like a complete wanker again?”

The first and second years in the Hall take this as their cue to run to class. With no teachers present to intervene, this could turn ugly fast.

“You expect me to be happy about being dumped, do you? And for the likes of him”—Ron throws Draco a disgusted look—“at that!”

“Nobody dumped you," Hermione points out reasonably.

“No? Well, he might as well have done. Funny how everyone around here seems to have contracted a bad case of memory loss all of a sudden. Harry, have you forgotten whose side Malfoy was on during the war, not to mention all the nasty shit he got up to? He was the enemy, for crying out loud!”

“Frankly, Weasley,” Gregory cuts in. “If my friends behaved as appallingly as you’re doing right now, I reckon I’d give my enemies a try as well.”

Ron clenches his fists. “And how the bloody hell is this even any of your business, Goyle?”

“You made it my business when you rudely barged in on my lunch.”

Hermione’s had enough. She roughly grabs Ron by the arm and practically drags him out of the Great Hall, loudly voicing her annoyance all the way to the door and beyond.

Harry sits back down and shakes his head sadly.

“Are you all right?” Draco asks softly. He places his right hand atop Harry’s, linking their fingers.

Mildly stunned, Harry glances down at Draco’s hand on his, then up at Gregory’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Draco says with a smile. “He knows.”

Gregory nods. “Indeed, I do.” He pulls his Transfiguration text book from his bag and flips it open. “I’m just going to sit here quietly and catch up on some studying. Don't mind me, Potter.”

“Oh." Harry grins, relieved. “Okay.”

“With any luck, Granger will deal with Weasley. Rather her than me,” Draco says. “I wonder if they’re still serving lunch. You really should eat something, Harry.”

At those words, a House Elf appears with a plate of egg and cress sandwiches and a steaming bowl of tomato soup.

“Thanks.” Harry smiles and eagerly tucks in. At least the argument with Ron didn’t spoil his appetite.

Draco finishes off his apple slices, grabs a piece of parchment and a quill from his satchel and gets started on his letter to Pansy.

 

***

  
Letter firmly in hand, Draco walks to the Owlery. He suggested to Pansy they meet in Hogsmeade the day after tomorrow. Since Falkirk isn’t that far away, he hopes to receive her answer by tonight.

His stomach is in knots when he considers how tough these past few months must have been for her.

He sighs deeply as his thoughts unwittingly drift to Ronald Weasley’s earlier outburst.

Pansy was never a slag by any stretch of the imagination. As far as Draco knows, Vincent Crabbe was the only boy she was ever truly interested in and even though her relationship with him had more downs than ups – Vincent’s jealousy over her close friendship with Draco didn't help matters either – had Vincent lived, Draco is convinced he and Pansy would have found a way to make it work, especially with a child in the picture.

Weasley’s nasty remark about Pansy wasn’t the worst of the tirade, however. Something else he threw in Draco’s face hit a little too close to home. Those words still weigh heavily on Draco’s heart.

_“... whose side Malfoy was on during the war, not to mention all the nasty shit he got up to....”_

There’s no denying Draco did terrible, unforgivable things. He almost killed someone. He cursed fellow students. He participated in magical and physical torture, albeit unwillingly. He stood idly by, sat there frozen in fear to be more precise, when Nagini ate people and Fenrir Greyback maimed, slaughtered or turned innocents into werewolves just for the sheer thrill of it.

With the passing of time, the atrocities in Malfoy Manor’s dungeons grew increasingly ferocious. After the war, Draco heard rumours of rape and other vile acts he really can’t allow himself to contemplate for too long or he may never eat or sleep again. In that respect, the Dark Lord probably did him a favour by ordering his return to Hogwarts.

Draco sighs. He rakes a hand through his hair. He should pull himself together, focus on the present and work on the future. He mustn't allow himself to get stuck in the past, that won't get him anywhere.

So the future...

Draco shakes his head. He wants so badly to build a life with Harry it sometimes scares him, and what frightens him even more is how Weasley in all his foul-tempered fury seems determined to mess things up, to poison Harry’s mind with his biased, one-sided version of events.

Draco reaches the Owlery. He hands a treat and his missive to an enthusiastic bird. Draco didn’t bring his own owl to school this year. Doing so seemed pointless with no one to write to except occasionally his parents.

“Here you go.”

With a loud hoot the bird spreads its wings and flies off into the horizon.

Draco stares after it for a long time until he finally turns on his heel and leaves for the next class, wishing he could send all his gloomy thoughts off somewhere, too.


	14. Chapter 14

“Oh no!” Ron exclaims dramatically on the way to the greenhouses. “It’s raining. Malfoy’s hairdo will be completely ruined!”

Neville, who walks next to him, isn’t one bit amused. “Come on, give it a rest, mate.”

Ron sneers. “So you’ve also joined the Ferret Defence Squad, have you?”

“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” Neville replies calmly. “All I’m saying is: you’re blowing this way out of proportion. If Harry and Malfoy have decided to be friends, I reckon that’s a good thing at the end of the day. Haven’t we had enough pointless fighting around here already?”

Ron shakes his head. “Nev, this is Malfoy we’re talking about. You don’t honestly believe his friendship with Harry is genuine, do you? Nah! He’s planning something fishy. He has to be!”

Overhearing Ron’s rantings, Hermione sighs. At least Harry didn’t catch a word of it; her boyfriend and her best friend having one gigantic row per day more than suffices.

Distracted by her own thoughts and the continued rambling taking place behind her, she doesn’t realise how slippery the path is until it’s too late. She loses her footing and her balance, and stumbles forward.

Just in the nick of time, Blaise Zabini grabs her by the arms. “Careful there, Granger. Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?”

”No,” she replies, feeling a bit shaken and also rather foolish. “I-I’m fine, Blaise. Thank you.”

“Oi! Zabini!” Ron yells. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off my girlfriend!”

Amidst his umpteenth tirade against everything Malfoy, he completely missed Hermione’s near-fall and is aghast to suddenly see her standing a few feet away in Blaise’s arms; _Just what is that sneaky git playing at,_ Ron wonders, _and isn’t Malfoy being enough of a pest already, does Zabini have to get in on the action too?_

“I do apologise, Weasley,” Blaise replies snidely, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. “If I ever see Granger about to hit the ground again, I’ll take a giant leap backwards and leave her to break her neck without hindrance, shall I?”

Ron blinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermione sighs. “I almost fell, Ron, slipped on the wet cobblestones, but Blaise caught me.”

Ron glares. “Of course he did, because he’s such a kind and helpful individual, isn’t he? Just like Malfoy, Harry’s new best mate.”

At the sound of his name, Draco shakes his head. Harry clenches his fists but says nothing. 

Blaise now remains quiet, too; he merely stares at Ron, who appears to be on the verge of either a violent explosion or a total meltdown — or perhaps a disturbing combination of both — as he yells, “You’re all fucking mental!” and promptly stalks off.

“I should go after him,” Hermione says.

“No,” Harry cuts in. “I’ll do it, Hermione. This is really about Draco and me anyway. I don’t want the two of you to get into a fight as well, not because of me.” With that, he takes his leave.

Draco’s stomach is in knots again as he watches Harry go.

Hermione turns to Blaise. “I’m sorry about Ron,” she tells him. “I’m afraid he’s...”

“... severely lacking in class, manners and common sense?” Blaise offers. “We were already aware of that, Granger. Painfully so!”

Hermione opens her mouth to at least attempt to defend Ron, but whatever she’s about to say is cut off by Professor Sprout’s arrival.

“Good afternoon, class,” the Professor says pleasantly. “Dreadful weather we’re having today, but this is also rather apt since we’ll be learning about two herbs that thrive in humid and I daresay dreary conditions. Neville, would you care to assist me? Our first herb of the day actually comes from a tree that, even in its juvenile stages, is quite large and prickly.”

“Yes, certainly, Professor,” Neville replies, enthusiastically stepping forward. “I’d be happy to.”

Draco takes a deep breath. He forces himself to focus on what the teacher is saying, but his thoughts keep drifting to whatever Harry and Weasley might be discussing, and a strong feeling of dread settles in his gut.

  
  
***

 

Spotting the distinct mop of fiery red hair in the nearby distance, Harry jogs over to the Quiddich Pitch. He had a feeling this was where Ron would go, and he’s relieved to see he was right. At least some things are still the same.

Ron is sitting on one of the benches, staring into space, deeply lost in thought.

“Ron?” Harry ventures. He takes a seat next to his friend. “I think we need to talk.”

Ron turns his head to look at him. “Do we really? I reckon everything’s already been said, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” Harry states firmly. “I don’t even understand why you’re so pissed off at me all of a sudden. Is this because of Draco again?”

Ron sighs. He leaps up and starts pacing back and forth as he begins: “Malfoy’s a big part of it yeah, but...”

“But? Go on...”

“You know, Harry, when we returned to school, I thought our lives would finally go back to the way they were before. I mean, obviously we went through a terrible war and its consequences and many of us are still hurting, but...” Ron swallows thickly. “When you and Ginny decided not to get back together and you moved out of The Burrow, and when we barely heard from you afterwards, I figured it was just a phase, something you needed to go through on your own so you could come to terms with everything that had happened.”

Ron sits back down next to Harry and continues, “When we got back here, I thought the two of us would do the same stuff we did before the war; you know, play chess, go flying, and sneak down to the kitchens for cake and sweets. I was sure you’d rejoin the Quidditch team as well. As it turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong. In fact, all you seem interested in these days is hanging around with bloody Malfoy and frankly, mate, why you’d even want to do that is beyond me, unless you really hate yourself or something.”

Harry frowns. He’s not the brightest when it comes to reading people and their feelings, but he thinks he’s beginning to comprehend what this is really about. “So you’re upset with me because I was no longer around, not there for you anymore?"

“Yeah.” Ron nods to himself. “That sums it up, pretty much. You were never there, or you were, but never available, like you were quickly slipping away from us.” He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs deeply. “Hell, you did slip away from us. You didn’t answer our Owls, weren’t home when we Firecalled, it was like you’d fallen off the face of the earth. You know, Harry, if I’m to be completely honest, sometimes I felt like I’d lost two brothers in the war instead of one. Truth be told, sometimes I still feel like that.”

Harry flinches. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he truly is. He never intended to drift apart from Ron – and to a lesser extent, from Hermione as well – but it seems to have happened regardless.

Ron speaks again. “What I don’t understand, though... Just what is your deal with Malfoy? Why are you spending all of your time with him? What do you two do together? The whole thing just seems so bizarre to me. I really don’t get it.”

Harry swallows a sudden lump in his throat. He can’t think of a suitable excuse or a plausible lie with which to worm his way out of this, and besides, despite it all, Ron is still his best friend; he deserves the truth.

“Do you really want to know, Ron?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay.” Harry gathers his courage and says, a little awkwardly, “So, Draco and me, you see, the fact of the matter is we… We’re in love.”

Ron’s jaw drops. “You what?! You’re pulling my leg, right, Harry? Having me on?”

“No, trust me, it’s not a joke.”

“B-But,” Ron splutters. “You’re not _queer_! You like girls. Don’t you? I mean, you dated my sister. You used to fancy Cho Chang.”

Harry sighs. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t think it matters anyway; Draco’s the only one I want.”

Ron remains silent for a few moments before he asks, “So this is serious then, between you and Malfoy? Like with Hermione and me?”

“Yes, Ron,” Harry replies. “I can’t imagine my life without him in it anymore, and I don’t want to.”

“Bloody hell.”

“But I suppose this is going to be a problem for you, isn’t it?” Harry asks, a solemn frown forming on his face. “Seeing how you still hate him so much?”

Ron doesn’t answer right away; he takes a few minutes to quietly mull everything over. “No,” he finally says. “It’s not going to be a problem for me. Just... give me some time to get used to the idea, all right? I mean, Rowena’s ruby knickers, this is sodding Malfoy you’re snogging!”

“All right.” Harry can only chuckle at that. “Fair enough.”

“And I’ll still knock his block off if he ever hurts you,” Ron adds. “Kill him dead. Just so you know.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Harry says and smiles. His friendship with Ron seems to be back on the right track at last.

 

  


***

 

  


Draco anxiously paces the Room of Requirement. He hasn’t laid eyes on Harry since Harry followed Weasley to Salazar-knows-where and never returned to Herbology class.

Of course, had Draco gone to the Great Hall for dinner, he might have spotted him there, but Draco couldn’t face food or for that matter, people tonight. He’s too much of a nervous wreck.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, he sighs in relief when Harry walks through the door, smiling and carrying a large cardboard box in with him. “Hello, Draco.”

Draco gives him a smile in return, but it soon falters.

“Are you all right?” Harry asks, placing the box on the coffee table.

“Yes,” Draco replies automatically but at Harry’s doubtful look, he admits with a solemn sigh, “No, not really.”

Harry crosses the distance between them and wraps his arms around Draco. “Is this about Ron?”

“I suppose so, in a sense.”

“Come on.” Harry takes Draco by the hand and leads him to one of the sofas. They both sit down, still holding hands. “Talk to me. What is it?”

“Well, I,” Draco begins with a fair amount of hesitation. “I was worried, rather frantic actually, that Weasley might...”

“What?”

“I thought he’d try to force you into making a choice, either him or me. I was also afraid he’d manage to convince you somehow that with everything I’ve done, I’m not worthy of your friendship, never mind….” He gestures between them. “This. I…”

Harry shakes his head. “My talk with Ron didn’t go at all like that, and you know, even if he had given me some sort of ultimatum, I could have never just...”

“Weasleys always win when it comes to you,” Draco interrupts him bitterly. “In first year, you picked Ronald over me and in sixth year, when I had all these feelings for you that I didn’t have a bloody clue what to do with, I once walked in on you kissing his sister in the library of all places! So I...”

“Draco, please,” Harry says. “Trust me, the way you and I are now, no one’s going to chase me away. You couldn’t even get rid of me yourself if you tried.”

Draco remains unconvinced. His face, paler than usual, is a picture of misery and defeat.

Harry does the only thing he can think of to reassure him. He gently kisses Draco and whispers, “I love you,” against his lips.

“Do you hear me? I love you,” he says again, “and I’m not leaving you, ever.” He kisses a trail along Draco’s jaw and neck, planting featherlight kisses on every bit of skin he can reach before working his way up to Draco’s ear. He slowly unbuttons Draco’s shirt.

Draco shivers. Soft hair tickles his cheek while Harry’s left hand slides over his chest and caresses his sensitive nipples one by one. A needy moan escapes his mouth.

Draco slips his hands underneath Harry’s T-shirt, letting his fingers get reacquainted with the warm skin of Harry’s back.

Their lips meet again. Harry gently pushes Draco down onto the sofa and positions himself on top of him.

Draco moans once more when he feels an unmistakable hardness press against his own erection.

He wraps his arms around Harry and kisses him with a desperate passion that almost takes Harry’s breath away.

Draco wraps his legs around Harry’s waist to pull him closer and keep him in place, and thrusts his hips upwards, rutting his clothed cock against Harry’s. He considers how this would be more comfortable if they moved to the bed. It would also be even nicer if they had fewer clothes on, but he doesn’t want to stop what he’s doing, not even for a minute, the sensations coursing through him are far too amazing.

Harry groans. His plan had been to go slowly, but any attempts at self-control prove useless. The heated kissing feels too good, the warm body underneath his own feels even better and then Draco starts to move his hips faster, causing the most wonderful friction, even through layers of clothing.

" _Fuck_. Draco. So close already.” Harry gasps, pushing his hips downwards, increasing his pace, meeting Draco thrust for thrust. All the while Draco continues kissing him and holds onto him tightly.

“Oh, yes,” Draco cries out in pleasure. “Harryyyyy...”

Hearing his name like that is Harry's undoing. He throws his head back and amidst incoherent moans and gasps, comes hard, soaring over the edge and taking Draco with him.

For a few moments, they don’t speak, just look at each other with matching grins as they both try to catch their breaths.

“Feel better now?” Harry asks, his tone laced with mischief.

“Much,” Draco replies, and chuckles. “Even though my clothes are a sticky mess, and I desperately need a shower.”

“Me too. I suppose we could try sneaking into the Prefects’ Bathroom,” Harry suggests.

“No need.” Draco smiles. “See that door?” He gestures to the left wall at the far end of the room.

Harry blinks. “Was that already there when I came in?”

“Indeed it was,” Draco smirks. “Observant and aware of your surroundings as ever, Potter. You know, at times like these, I wonder how you managed to make it through the war without someone leisurely strolling into the room and casually chopping your head off.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re hilarious, Draco, really, and don’t call me ‘Potter’.”

"Very well, _Harry_ ,” Draco continues in a mock formal tone. “As I was about to say: behind that door is a bathroom. It also has pyjamas, bathrobes and a change of clothes for tomorrow.”

Harry blinks. “Really? I didn’t realise this room could even do something like that. Did you?”

Draco shakes his head. “No, I’m still not sure how Hogwarts’ magic works to be honest, all the books I’ve read on the subject seem to contradict each other, but far be it from me to complain.”

Harry smiles. “I guess I’ll take a shower too, then. Afterwards, we can change into those pyjamas and have a bite to eat.” He points at the box on the table. “I brought chocolate cake, sweet tea and some fruit. I noticed you weren’t at dinner...”

“That sounds like a plan,” Draco says. He presses a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Somewhere between not quite asleep and not exactly awake, Draco stretches out an arm, hoping to snuggle closer to Harry. The space next to him in the large bed is cold and empty, however.

It’s enough to fully rouse him from slumber. Worried, he sits up and nervously looks around the room. He spots Harry sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the fireplace. With a sombre look on his face, the young man stares into the flickering orange flames.

Draco quickly climbs out of bed.

Harry doesn’t look his way. He doesn’t even notice Draco approach and sit down next to him. He’s too wrapped up in thought.

“Hey,” Draco whispers, placing a hand on Harry’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Huh? What?” Startled, Harry whips his head around, but soon relaxes. “Oh, Draco, it’s you.”

“Yes. Who else would it be?” he replies with a small smile. “What’s the matter? You seemed miles away.”

“Yeah.” Harry takes Draco’s hand and links their fingers. “I had one hell of a nightmare, and I couldn’t fall asleep again afterwards.”

Draco gently squeezes the hand he’s holding. “So why didn’t you wake me?”

Harry sighs. “You need your rest. Besides, I’m dreadful company when I’m like this.”

“Dreadful company?” Draco shakes his head. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more selfish sometimes, you know. You don’t have to struggle through these terrible things alone.”

Harry smiles. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a while, until Draco asks, “So, would you like to talk about your nightmare? Would that help?”

“It’s... There isn’t much to say, really. It was a dream about something that happened during the war. It was the middle of the night, I was by all myself, still looking for those _Horcruxes_ , when I ended up at this derelict house. There was a bad storm brewing and the place seemed safe enough to provide me with shelter for a few hours, but...” Harry swallows thickly. “When I lit a candle, I spotted four dead bodies on the floor: a man, a woman and two young children. They’d obviously been murdered, and most likely with some spell, because there wasn’t any blood anywhere and there were no visible signs of a struggle or anything like that either. Those people – a family, I suppose – were lying there pale as ghosts, with wide lifeless eyes and looks of sheer terror on their faces.” Harry shudders at the memory. “I felt like I couldn’t think, I could barely even breathe, so I ran from there as fast as I could, until I was too knackered to run any further.”

Draco squeezes Harry’s hand again. He can’t find any appropriate words to say, so he remains quiet.

“When I woke up just now, I couldn’t get the images of those poor people and their cruel, unnecessary deaths out of my mind and then, somehow, I got to thinking about my own family and friends that are no longer around and how much I miss them.” Harry smiles wryly. “When I close my eyes, I can still see Sirius falling through the veil. I don’t think that experience will ever stop haunting me. You know, he was the only family—well, sort of family—I still had after my parents’ death who genuinely cared about me, unlike...” Harry sighs deeply.

“Unlike who?”

“The Dursleys,” Harry states grimly.

Draco frowns. There’s something vaguely familiar about that name but he can’t quite place it. “Sorry, you’ve lost me. Who are they?”

“The Muggle relatives I had the misfortune of growing up with,” Harry explains. “They hated me, called me a freak because of my magic, barely fed me, made me wear my cousin’s hand-me-down clothes and for years, I slept in a cramped, dusty cupboard under the stairs.” 

“What?!” Draco exclaims, shocked. “Those miscreants made you sleep in a cupboard?”

“Yeah, I suppose you never knew about any of that, did you?”

“I didn’t. I’d always assumed you were spoiled rotten because of that whole _Boy Who Lived_ business. I had no idea it was in fact the opposite. Good grief!”

Harry sighs. “They hated my guts, Draco, they really did, but then Sirius came into my life and he was great. He did care about me. I finally felt like I had a family again, but just as the two of us were growing close, he was killed.”

“By my psychotic aunt,” Draco interjects. “I’m sorry.”

Harry sighs. “He and I had so little time together. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“It isn’t fair. A lot of people died much too soon and for no good reason; Severus, Teddy’s parents...”

Harry nods. “And to be honest, most of the time I cope all right with those losses, I can push the pain to the back of my mind, but sometimes the anger and sadness completely overwhelm me, and after that dream earlier. I feel pretty wrecked.  So many of my friends are gone, you know. Even Hedwig, my owl, died. And Dobby...”

“Dobby was a good Elf,” Draco says softly. “Father was often mean and cruel to him, but the little fellow never held it against me. He used to make me chocolate biscuits when I was a child and in winter he always insisted I wear a hat and mittens outside; he even gave me these animated lectures about it in that unique high-pitched voice of his. It’s a shame he’s no longer with us.”

Harry gives him a watery smile. “Yeah.”

“Come on,” Draco says, getting up from the floor. “You look exhausted. Let’s go back to bed.”

Harry nods. “All right. I think I might be able to catch some more sleep now.”

A few moments later, snuggled against Draco’s chest, Harry closes his eyes. With Draco tenderly stroking his hair, it doesn’t take long before he slips into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

 

****

 

When Harry shows up in the Great Hall for breakfast, his friends are already there. Just as he’s about to take a seat, Ron pipes up, “Were you with Malfoy just now?”

Harry nods. “I was until about fifteen minutes ago, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“His parents have arrived. I decided to get some extra Quidditch practice in this morning—you know we have this big match coming up against Hufflepuff, yeah? Well, when I got back, I saw them in the entrance hall with McGonagall; that must’ve been half an hour or so ago.”

Harry frowns. “I suppose I’d best go and check what’s going on, then. Maybe Draco’s in trouble.”

“Oi! Shouldn’t you at least eat something first? Or take a muffin with you?”

“No, but you can save me one for later, all right?”’

Ron shrugs. “Sure, mate.”

“Cheers.” Harry runs out of the Great Hall to fetch his map and cloak and to locate Draco.

Sighing, Ron looks at Hermione. “Do you reckon I did the right thing by telling him?”

She nods. “Yes, he would have found out about it anyway and it’s probably best for everyone involved that he knows what’s going on; he’s had too many things kept secret from him over the years.”

“I really wish I knew what the Malfoys are doing here, though. Part of me’s hoping they’re planning on transferring the Ferret to Durmstrang or have him tutored at home.”

“Technically, Lucius and Narcissa can’t do that,” Hermione points out. “Draco is of age. It’s up to him and him alone where he continues his schooling. Besides, Harry would be devastated if he left now. Surely you wouldn’t want that, Ron?”

“I don’t want that for Harry, no,” Ron replies, “but if you ask me, he’s probably headed for heartbreak either way.” He hesitates a beat, then continues, “Sometimes I get the impression I’m the only one around here who actually remembers what a nasty piece of work Malfoy can be, all the shit he did and...”

“You’re certainly not the only one,” Hermione states firmly. “You know perfectly well I’m not exactly fond of Draco either, but what would we gain by picking fights with him or otherwise provoking him, especially since he hasn’t bothered us even once since we came back? We’d only cause unnecessary distress and aggravation and the only one we’d be hurting in the end would be Harry. Draco doesn’t give a damn about us or our opinions. We can insult him ‘till we’re blue in the face, he won’t care.”

“You’re probably right,” Ron says. “I only hope Harry knows what he’s doing, getting involved with someone like that.”

“Harry’s not daft. If Draco’s planning to deceive him in some way, he’ll find out soon enough.”

Ron nods in agreement, but then another none too appealing possibility hits him. “But what if Malfoy is actually sincere and him and Harry stay together? Then we’ll all be stuck with the flaming Ferret for the rest of our lives, won’t we?”

Hermione sighs. “Yes, I expect so.”

“Brilliant,” Ron mumbles and heaps some more bacon onto his plate. “Abso- _bloody_ -lutely brilliant.”

 

 

****

 

 

Reluctantly, Draco follows Professor Slughorn to a spacious meeting room on the third floor. His parents are there on some kind of official school business, he’s been told, and they’d like a word with him as well.

Slughorn approached him just as he walked out of his dorm, where he’d stopped by to fetch his satchel. As far as Draco’s aware, the man hasn’t a clue where Draco spent his previous nights or with whom, and Draco fully intends to keep it that way.

Slughorn knocks at the door.

“Do come in,” McGonagall calls out.

“In you go, Mr Malfoy,” Slughorn says. “If this should take up more time than expected and you require a note of absence for your next lesson, one will of course gladly be provided for you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Draco says and enters the room.

“Here he is,” McGonagall says pleasantly, as she gets up from her seat. “I shall leave you to it, then.” She shakes Narcissa’s hand and then Lucius’. “Mrs Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, have a safe journey home; we shall speak again soon.”

With a parting nod to Draco, she takes her leave.

Confused, Draco faces his parents. “Mother? Father? What’s the matter? What brings you here?”

“Hello my darling,” Narcissa says. She gets up and pulls her son into a tight hug.

“There is nothing for you to worry about,” she goes on to tell him soothingly. “Your father just had some matters to discuss with the headmistress — we’ll tell you all about that later — but since we’re here, we decided to look in on you as well.”

“Oh, I see,” Draco says.

His mother returns to her chair as his father gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, son.”

The three of them sit down at the table.

“So, how have you been?” Narcissa asks. “We haven’t heard from you for a while...”

“Sorry about that,” Draco replies. “Life here has been rather busy, but I’m doing fine and everything is going very well.”

“So your fellow students haven’t been giving you any trouble?”

“No, on the contrary, the atmosphere has been surprisingly harmonious. A few exceptions aside, there seems to be this unspoken agreement that people who don’t get on just keep out of each other’s way.”

“That’s a relief,” Narcissa says.

Lucius nods. “Indeed.”

“So,” Narcissa continues. “Your father and I have also been wondering about Christmas. It’s only a few short weeks away, you realise… Have you decided yet whether you’ll be coming home? If you’re worried about bad memories triggering nightmares and such, we’ve had the whole place redecorated, including your room. It looks completely different and so much nicer now. I expect you’ll be thrilled when you see the results!"

Draco takes a deep breath. He supposes it’s now or never. “I would love to come home for Christmas Hols,” he says, “but I was wondering, would it be all right if I brought a guest?”

“A guest?” Narcissa gives him a brilliant smile. “But of course, darling, which one of your friends will be coming along? Gregory? Blaise? Theodore?”

“No, I'm not referring to one of my Slytherin friends, it’s...” He nervously clears his throat. “The fact of the matter is that I’ve met someone... or rather, I’d already met him a long time ago, but recently we’ve become quite close and...” Draco takes a deep breath, unsure how to continue. He should have probably rehearsed this at some point, just in case.

“Are you trying to tell us you have a boyfriend, Draco?” Narcissa asks him kindly.

Draco nods. “Yes, I am. I mean, yes, I do… have a boyfriend, I mean.”

“Oh well!” She smiles, quite happy with that news. “Do we know this young man who’s stolen your heart?”

Draco takes another deep breath. “Yes, you do, but...” He hesitates.

“It’s Harry Potter, isn’t it?” Lucius states matter-of-factly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco’s eyes widen in horror. “Um, yes, Father,” he manages, bracing himself.

The expected outburst doesn’t happen. Instead, Lucius sighs resignedly and turns to his wife. “Right, then. Cissa, what do you make of this?”

Narcissa frowns. “Draco, darling, are you certain Harry would even want to come? What with circumstances being such as they were and still are...”

Draco nods. “Yes, Mother, we’ve discussed it at great length. As long as he’s welcome at the Manor, we would really like to spend Christmas there, together.”

Lucius speaks again. “And are you positive your little _friend_ is being sincere and that his sudden affection towards you isn’t all part of some dastardly Ministry scheme?”

Draco blinks; where did that strange assumption suddenly spring from? “Yes, Father,” he replies confidently. ”I’m one hundred percent certain. Harry would never involve himself in something so sordid. We... We truly care about each other.”

“I see.” Lucius folds his hands in front of him. “If this is what you want, Draco, if this would make you happy... Cissa, do you have any objections?”

She shakes her head. “No. Harry is most welcome to join us. We’ll even send him a formal invitation, do this properly.”

Draco smiles. “Thank you.”

“So,” Narcissa changes the subject. “How are your studies going? The headmistress has told us some very good things about your academic achievements so far...”

 

 

****

 

 “You can come out now, Harry,” Draco’s voice resounds through the seemingly empty corridor.

A grinning face appears from underneath a cloak. “How did you know?”

“That garment may render you invisible, but it also makes this slight but very distinctive _whooshing_ sound every time you move. I heard it the first time back on the train in sixth year. It’s not difficult to detect once you know what to listen out for.”

“Oh,” Harry replies sheepishly. “I didn’t know that.”

“So I take it someone told you my parents were here, hence the sneaking around?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, Ron said he’d seen them with McGonagall. I wanted to make sure you were all right. Are you?”

“Yes,” Draco says, stepping into an empty classroom. “Everything’s fine.”

Harry follows him in and shuts the door behind them.

“Father,” Draco begins to explain, “came to discuss his possible reinstatement as member on the school board.”

Harry frowns. “He _what_?! You’ve got to be joking!”

“No. He believes that the many donations he made towards the rebuilding of the castle entitle him to a seat, especially now all charges against our famuly have been dropped.”

Harry shakes his head and clenches his fists; the thought of Lucius having any kind of authority at Hogwarts ever again fills him with an ardent rage— _just who does that conceited bastard think he is anyway?_

“Some bloody nerve your father’s got!” Harry snaps without thinking. “I don’t believe it! After everything he did, including torturing a couple of the students who still go to school here, he actually has the gall to...”

Harry takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his temper and his magic under control. “Besides, the way I see it, it’s only fair that Lucius paid for a large chunk of the restorations, since it was his son who let in some of the scum responsible for all the damage. He shouldn’t expect any favours in return. Shameless swine.”

Draco flinches; he feels as though he was just punched in the face. “His son is very much aware of what he did and why he did it, Potter,” he replies, his voice ice. “And he cannot turn back the clock; he can’t change a single thing about it or take any of it back, no matter how badly he might want to, and it will likely make him feel like shit forever, if that makes _you_ feel any better. And as for his—as for _my_ father being back on the Hogwarts’ board, personally I’d prefer it if he just kept his head down and stopped making demands to all and sundry, but he won’t because that’s not who he is or how he operates, and I can’t do a damn thing to change that either. My father does exactly what he wants, I have no power or influence over him.” Draco takes a deep breath. “Right, then. I should get to the next lesson. And incidentally, Potter, my parents said you’d be most welcome at the Manor for Christmas. You can expect to receive a formal invitation from them tomorrow or possibly already tonight depending on Mother's plans for the rest of the day, but of course when it arrives you’re free to rip it up if you don’t want to come. I’m beginning to think inviting you was a stupid idea anyway. I must have been out of my mind to suggest it.”

Draco heads for the door. He’s on the verge of tears, but Harry doesn’t need to see that.

“Draco,” Harry says. “Wait!”

When Draco ignores him and keeps on walking, Harry hurries towards the door and moves to stand in front of it. “Please,” he says. “Stop.”

Draco does, because the alternative would be to shove Harry out of the way, and he can’t bring himself to do that. Instead, he says bitterly, “I can’t help the part my family and I played in the war, but I’m starting to think my life would be so much simpler if you hadn’t fallen in love with me, if you’d just left me alone.”

Harry sighs. “I’m sorry. I think your father’s latest stunt is despicable and in terrible taste, but I shouldn’t have torn into you like that; you had nothing to do with it.”

“No I didn’t, but all you did was speak the truth,” Draco replies. “The awful, painful, fucked up truth.”

“Draco, I hurt you just now, and that wasn't my intention.”

“We’ve always hurt each other, Harry. Perhaps we always will. Perhaps we were foolish to think we could…” He chokes back a sob.

“What? Draco, what are you saying?” 

“I love you, you know that, but perhaps this whole… _thing_ between us was a dreadful mistake.”

“No,” Harry yells. “No, it wasn’t. It _isn’t_.” He grabs Draco by the arms. “And don’t you dare walk away from me – from us – now, not after everything; don’t you fucking dare be such a coward, Malfoy!”

Draco tries to speak but he doesn’t get the chance to utter even a single word, Harry’s mouth is on his, kissing him with a passion that verges on desperation.

When they break apart again, both slightly breathless, Harry asks, “Do you really want to call it quits? You don’t, do you?” He sounds scared, and he is.

“No,” Draco says softly. “It’s the last thing I want, but you and I, we’re on thin ice all the time. Our history is awful at best, and as for the rest of it: your friends hate me, you loathe my father, my father distrusts you...”

“What?” Harry blinks. “Why would Lucius distrust me? Is he hiding something he doesn’t want me to find out about?”

“No, he’s not hiding anything as far as I know, but he was concerned that this—us being together—might be part of some ploy set up by the Ministry.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! How could it be a ploy? And to achieve what exactly? And didn’t you say the investigation into your family was concluded?”

"Yes, and to the best of my knowledge it is."

“And then for the really fun part: am I whoring myself out on Ministry demand now, sleeping with you for information or whatever? Bloody hell, has your father gone completely mad?”

Draco sighs. “I have no idea what goes through his mind, Harry, but my point is: the people in our lives are largely against us, or at the very least suspicious. It’s bound to cause a lot of trouble and conflict further down the line. Not to mention how you and I went from enemies to... _this_ in such a short time; maybe we didn’t consider all the possible consequences, maybe there are too many odds stacked against us and we’ll only end up heartbroken.”

Harry shakes his head. “Or maybe we’ll actually end up happy. Have you even considered _that_ option _,_ Draco? This isn’t about my friends or your father, and it isn’t about the past either, it’s about you and me and what we have now. I want to make this work, to make this last. Don’t you?"

“Of course I do,” Draco replies with a small smile. “So much it frightens me sometimes and all my instincts tell me to run like hell.”

“Don’t do that,” Harry says and throws his arms around him. “I couldn’t bear to lose you now.”

“Likewise,” Draco whispers, returning the embrace.

They hold each other for a few moments until Draco glances at the large clock above the door. “Come on, we’re expected in Care of Magical Creatures in just ten minutes.”

“All right.”

They exit the classroom and once in the corridor, Harry grabs Draco’s hand.

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Do you want us to walk around school holding hands?”

Harry nods. “Now your parents and most of our friends know about us, do you see any reason why we shouldn’t?”

“No,” Draco replies, grinning. “None whatsoever.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

Smiling, Draco reads the letter a second time. Pansy has agreed to meet with him in Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon, so he’ll need to make the necessary arrangements. His plan is to book one of the back rooms of _The_ _Three Broomsticks_ , so he and his best friend will have the opportunity to talk privately over coffee and cake. With any luck, certain members of the press won’t spot the infamous Malfoys’ only son in the company of a young woman and a baby, and an avalanche of wild speculations and ludicrous headlines will be avoided.

Spooning up another piece of Cantaloupe melon, Draco glances over at the Gryffindor table.

An eagle owl swoops down, drops a fancy looking letter in Harry’s lap and soars out of the Great Hall again.

Intrigued, Harry tears open the envelope. Grinning, he looks at Draco and nods.

Draco grins back.

“Let me guess,” Blaise, who’s been watching the proceedings with obvious amusement, remarks. “We can expect a happy announcement shortly? Impending nuptials and all that?”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “Actually, that was a formal invitation for Harry to stay with me at the Manor over Christmas.”

“Ah, well, in that case, colour me disappointed,” Blaise replies dryly. “After the way the two of you were carrying on yesterday with all the hand-holding and other nauseating displays of affection, I was expecting a marriage proposal at the very least.”

Gregory sniggers.

Draco rolls his eyes. “All in good time, Blaise,” he says, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “All in good time.”

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron pipes up, “What’s that letter all about, mate? It looks important.”

Harry smiles awkwardly and replies – not without a fair amount of trepidation because even after their recent heart-to-heart, no one can predict how Ron will react this time, “I’ve been invited to spend the Holidays at the Malfoys’.”

Ron blinks. “ _What_?! Are you serious?”

Harry nods slowly.

“But you’re going to decline, right?”

Harry sighs. “No, I will be going, Ron. I don't want to be without Draco for two weeks.”

“But Harry, have you lost your mind? What about his father? He’ll be there as well, won’t he? I don’t have to spell it out for you what kind of a man he is, surely...”

“I expect Lucius will behave,” Harry replies firmly, “and if not, I managed to take care of his precious _Lord_ , so if necessary, I’m pretty sure I can defend myself quite adequately against him as well.”

Ron shakes his head. “I’m not going to fight with you again, mate, not over the Malfoys, but it’s your bloody funeral and I will tell you one thing: if you wake up one morning to find yourself brutally murdered and half-eaten by peacocks, don’t come crying to me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ron,” Harry deadpans. “Thanks.”

 

 

****

 

 

Hermione shakes her head in annoyance. She won’t be able to write her Ancient Runes paper if she can’t find the reference books she needs and at this very moment, the most important tome is absent from its shelf.

She’s about to approach the librarian when she spots Draco Malfoy seated at one of the tables, his brow furrowed in concentration as he writes.

_Ah_ , Hermione reasons; he must be working on the same assignment she came her to complete.

For few minutes, she hesitates. After all, sitting there is the same person who insulted her for years, who time after time called her that awful name, and who also made her and her friends’ lives at Hogwarts considerably more difficult than they should have been.

Still, _nothing ventured, nothing gained_ , she finally decides and makes a beeline for Malfoy’s table.

She coughs pointedly to attract his attention.

He looks up in surprise. “Granger? What do you want?”

“Are you done with that Ancient Runes book?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replies in a neutral tone.

“Oh.” She ponders again, then asks, “In that case, do you mind if I join you, so we can share it? I’d rather not go back and forth between tables and disturb the other students...”

Draco shrugs. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Hermione says and takes the chair across from him.

Draco gives her a half-smile and gets back to his work.

Hermione quietly observes him for a little while as he writes diligently, occasionally flicking his blonde fringe out of his face.

Then her gaze comes to rest on another book that’s lying on the table. It’s on the subject of Runes as well, but it isn’t one she’s familiar with. Is it perhaps one of Malfoy’s own?

“Granger?”

Startled, she looks up to meet Draco’s eyes.

“Is something the matter?”

“What? How do you mean? Why?”

“You were staring at me just now. Quite ostentatiously, I might add.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she mutters, taken completely off guard. “I was just… wondering about that other book you have there.”

“Ah. I purchased it in Hogsmeade recently, at that new bookshop.”

Hermione blinks. “There’s a new bookshop in Hogsmeade?”

“Yes,” he replies with a small smile, surprised Granger didn’t know about this. “In Dragon Square. It only opened over the summer. You should have a browse around when you get the chance. They stock all sorts of stuff; should be right up your street.”

“Right. I see,” she says awkwardly; Draco Malfoy talking to her like she’s a regular human being will no doubt take some getting used to. “So may I...?” she ventures, gesturing in the direction of Draco’s book.

“Feel free,” he replies. “If you think it’ll come in handy.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, is there anything else? I don’t wish to seem unpleasant, Granger, but I do have a ton of work to do still and not that much time to get it done in.”

“Are you meeting Harry later?” Hermione blurts out before she can stop herself.

“Yes.” The look on his face challenges her to say something about that. She doesn’t, so he continues, “And I would really like to get this finished before then.”

“Of course,” Hermione mutters. “Yes. Sorry.”

He gives her an almost-smile and focuses his attention back on his paper.

For forty-five minutes, the two of them work in silence, until the sound of Draco’s chair pushing back from the table makes Hermione look up.

“Done?” she asks him.

“Indeed,” he says, gathering his things. He notices she still has his book open in front of her. “Would you like to hold on to that one for a bit longer?”

“Yes, please,” she replies, relieved she doesn’t need to ask.

“Very well. I guess you can just give it to Harry when you’re done. He’ll return it to me.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Draco nods and moves to stand. “Not a problem. Goodbye, Granger.”

“Later, Draco.”

Hermione watches him exit the library. She’s somewhat stunned at how she just spent so much time at the same table as him and there wasn’t even a hint of unpleasantness between them. Malfoy almost seems to be a different person these days. Of course she can’t just forgive and forget, swipe all the foul things he did under the proverbial carpet, but if this is how he intends to act towards her from now on, she sees no reason why she shouldn’t be able to tolerate him or even be on friendly terms with him, if only for Harry’s sake.

 

 

****

 

 

Over an hour later than usual, Draco walks into the Room of Requirement.

Harry is sitting on one of the sofas, struggling to concentrate on his textbook and not doze off instead. At least it’s Saturday tomorrow, so he’ll be able to sleep in, wrapped in Draco’s arms if he’s lucky.

“Thank Salazar you’re still here, Harry! I was helping Greg with his Charms homework. The thing was a bit of a disaster and I completely lost track of time. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Harry smiles. “I managed to get some much needed revision done in the meantime.”

He stifles a yawn.

Draco sits down too and places a small heart-shaped box next to the teapot and mugs on the table in front of them.

“Tired, Harry?”

“No, just groggy after cramming for _History Of Magic_ for so long. Such mind-numbingly boring stuff! I can’t believe Hermione reads that sort of thing for fun...”

Draco smiles.

“Oh, and speaking of Hermione, she was wondering if she could keep your book until Monday?”

“Yes,” Draco says. “No problem.”

“All right. I’ll tell her.” Harry grins. “I wasn’t aware the two of you had become study buddies, by the way.”

“Oh please.” Draco smirks. “Sitting at the same table in the library because you happen to be working on the same assignment and require the same books hardly makes people _buddies_ of any kind, you realise.”

“Even so, I’m glad.”

“And why is that?”

“I think it’s nice that the two of you are getting on, or at least putting up with each other.”

“It’s like I told you before, Harry: if your friends are civil to me, I’ll be civil to them. Besides, Granger’s not that bad as long as she keeps her big mouth shut.”

“Funny,” Harry replies with a mischievous grin. “She said something very similar about you.”

Draco just rolls his eyes at that and swiftly changes the subject, “So... I believe I heard you complain earlier, something about being bored? I’m pretty sure I can remedy that.” He places a hand on Harry’s knee and kisses him soundly.

Harry smiles and cards his fingers through Draco’s hair. He briefly glances at the box on the table. “Did you bring sweets?”

“Yes. Here, try one.” He takes a chocolate and feeds it to Harry. “Good?”

“Brilliant. Hazelnut centre, right?”

“Mmmm. They’re new. Mother bought them in London.”

Draco tenderly runs a hand along Harry’s face. He finds himself mesmerised by big green eyes gazing at him with affection and longing. He leans closer and kisses Harry full on the lips.

Harry’s eyes flutter shut. Moaning softly, he melts into the kiss. Draco’s hands stroke his hair. Desire courses through him.

“Would you like to take this to the bed, Harry?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“Come on, then.”

They undress and climb in between the sheets.

Harry moves into Draco’s arms, relishing the sensation of soft, warm skin touching his own. Lips meet, hands roam and fingers caress as the two young men get lost in each other.

“Draco,” Harry whispers. “Do you suppose we...” Suddenly shy, he averts his gaze.

“What?”

“Could I be inside you tonight?”

“If you like,” Draco says with a small, self-conscious smile. “It’ll be my first time doing it like that, though. We may have to improvise.”

"Really?”

“Mmm.”

“Fine by me,” Harry says. Knowing he’ll be the first to shag Draco has him feeling quite smug. “I imagine we’ll manage.” He kisses a trail over Draco’s face, collarbone and all the way down his torso.

Having reached Draco’s abdomen, Harry whispers the lubrication spell he’s heard his boyfriend use a few times.

He takes Draco’s cock in his mouth and sucks it lightly, earning himself a loud moan.

Carefully, he sticks one finger inside Draco’s opening, and then a second one, stretching him gently. He presses his fingers in deeper, applying more pressure.

Suddenly Draco’s hips arch off the bed. “Oh fuck! Harry….”

Harry lets Draco’s cock slip from his mouth. He looks up at Draco’s face.

“Can I?”

“Yes, put it in me.”

Harry moves into a more comfortable position above Draco. He leans down, kisses Draco’s mouth, whispers, “I love you,” and slowly pushes himself inside.

Draco moans.

Harry supports himself on one arm, getting ready to move. He reaches his other arm down to stroke Draco’s cock, but soon realises what he wants to do won’t work like this; his coordination and balance really are rubbish where everything that’s not Quidditch is concerned. “Damn,” he mutters under his breath.

“Harry,” Draco says softly. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.” Draco places his right hand on his own cock and slowly lets his fingers trail over it.

Harry’s breath hitches at the sight. “Oh. You're....”

Draco smirks. “Does this turn you on? Seeing me touch myself?”

Harry blushes furiously. “Yeah.”

Draco chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “I-I’m going to start moving now.”

“All right,” Draco whispers.

Harry thrusts twice. Draco lets out a deep groan.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Harry asks quickly.

“No, that definitely wasn’t pain.”

Harry grins. He thrusts harder and goes deeper, slowly increasing his pace. It’s tempting to lose control in that tight heat, but he knows he mustn’t go too fast yet. He wants Draco to come first.

“Oh fuck. Harry! Yes!” Draco almost screams. “Right there!”

Harry gazes down at Draco’s face, kisses him, and moves even faster. Draco is still touching himself, rigorously pumping his dick with his right hand while his left holds on to Harry’s waist.

“So good. So hot,” Harry murmurs, “and I love you so fucking much.”

Draco moans again. He throws his head back and grips Harry tightly, fingers digging into skin. He comes with a loud guttural groan, shooting his release between them.

Harry gasps. He thrusts a few more times until stars explode behind his eyes. With his lover’s name on his lips, he comes hard. He’s trembling as he pulls out and sinks back down, resting his head against Draco’s chest. “Oh wow,” he manages in a muffled whisper.

Draco strokes Harry’s hair and kisses the boy’s sweaty forehead. “Wow is right. That was bloody amazing.”

“Mmmm.” Harry grins. “Do you know what I’d like to do now?”

“No,” Draco says, chuckling. “But if you’re about to suggest a second round, at least give me a moment to catch my breath first. That was intense. Brilliant, but intense.”

Harry laughs softly. “I was thinking about going flying, actually.”

“Not a good idea in this weather, Harry, but I must admit I miss it.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I expect we’ll be able to go flying during Christmas Hols, though. From up in the air, the view of the Manor and its grounds is pretty spectacular. We have deer visiting as well, and foxes. Occasionally even a wolf if we’re lucky… You’ll love it.”

“You’re really looking forward to the Holidays, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Draco replies, stroking Harry’s hair, “and to spending a lot of time with you, just the two of us, away from this place.”

“Your parents will also be around, you know,” Harry points out, “and Andromeda and Teddy.”

“Of course, but you know how massive my family’s Manor is! We’ll have plenty of privacy when we need it and besides, I plan to take you out on dates as well.”

“Dates?”

“That’s right. Do regular _couples_ _stuff_. We could go and see a play or attend a concert. I could take you out for coffee and ice cream. There’s this charming café in the nearby village. It’s Muggle would you believe, but they do the most scrumptious Banana Split. Mother used to take me there often when I was a child.”

Harry grins.

“You know,” Draco continues. “I actually considered inviting you for ice cream the very first time we met. I thought you were intriguing and kind of adorable, standing there on that stool, all wide-eyed, wild-haired and looking like you didn't have a single clue in the world as you were being fitted for your school robes.”

Harry chuckles. “I didn't, I was completely lost, and now I kind of wish you had asked me. Just imagine...” He kisses Draco’s neck. “You don’t have to be anywhere early tomorrow morning, do you?”

“No, but I am meeting with Pansy around four in the afternoon. At  _The Three Broomsticks_ , and she’s bringing little Vincent along as well.”

“That’s great,” Harry says, and he means it. He has some idea of how important Pansy is to Draco, and it'll be good for Draco to have her back in his life. Close, loyal friends are rare and extremely precious.

“But until then, I’m all yours,” Draco says softly, a devious smile playing around his lips. He pulls Harry closer and kisses him thoroughly.

Harry feels a familiar desire well up in him. “So, Draco,” he whispers. “How about that second round now?”


	17. Chapter 17

_“Draco! Wait!”_

_Pansy knows she shouldn’t be running in her condition, and all this additional stress can’t be good for her or her unborn child either, but she really must talk to him. Before she leaves, she needs to tell him the truth, take off the Glamour, reveal_ _her_ _pregnancy, and explain why she had no choice but to do what she did._

_The events of the past hours still have her head reeling._

_The battle came to Hogwarts and also ended there when, against all odds, Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord._

_It’s over. It’s finally over._

_In different, less tragic circumstances, Pansy would be over the moon, but at this very moment, nothing in the world could bring a smile to her pale, worry-worn face._

_Vincent is dead. Her_ _son or daughter will have to grow up without a father._ _Her best friend almost lost his life, too. Had it not been for Potter_ _literally_ _flying_ _to the rescue, she’d be mourning the loss_ _of_ _two loved ones today._

_Although_ _chances are she’ll still have to say goodbye to Draco, albeit it in a different manner._

_He has barely spoken to her since he_ _returned_ _to school, and not once kindly. She can understand why he would be furious_ _— she did betray him, after all —_ _but that doesn’t_ _lessen_ _her pain_ _in the slightest._

_At last she catches up with him. “Draco! Please! Listen to me!"_

_He whips around and shoots her a venomous look. “What do you want now?”_

_“We need to talk,” she ventures, her tone determined. “I have to tell you something; I have to explain why_ _I_ _…”_

_“No,” he snaps, his tone acid. “Nothing you might have to say could possibly interest me any longer and furthermore, I don’t have time for your nonsense. I have to grab some essentials and join my mother in the Great Hall — or what’s left of it.” He glares at her_ _one_ _final time and adds, “As far as I’m concerned, Parkinson, you can_ _rot_ _in hell.” With that, he stalks into the seventh year boys’ dorm and slams the door shut behind him._

_“Where do you suppose I am_ _right_ _now?” Pansy whispers solemnly, placing her hand on her_ _deceivingly flat_ _stomach. Her eyes fill with tears as she turns around and walks away._

 

 

***

 

 

“Ah, Mr Malfoy, nice to see you again,” Maurice Burke, the new proprietor of _The Three Broomsticks_ says with a broad smile. “Your guests are already here. If you’d care to come this way?”

Draco nods and follows the man to one of the back rooms.

“A waiter will be with you shortly,” Burke says. With a curt nod, he takes his leave.

Draco walks through the door and spots Pansy sitting at the table. She looks pretty in her cobalt blue dress and with her dark hair loose and longer than it used to be.

Before he gets the chance to greet her, she leaps up from her chair, crosses the distance between them, and throws her arms around him.

“Draco! I’m so glad you’re here!”

He returns the embrace, inhaling her familiar sweet orchid perfume. He’s instantly reminded of how often she held and comforted him over the years, and once again, he realises how much he has missed her and how badly it hurt to think that she, of all people, could have betrayed him.

“Hello Pansy,” he says and she squeezes him even tighter, almost as though she can’t believe he actually came.

Glancing over her shoulder, Draco sees little Vincent. With an expression of wonder, the chubby baby is staring up at him from his pram.

“Good afternoon to you too, little man,” Draco says.

With a watery smile, Pansy lets go of her best friend and walks towards her son. “There’s someone here who is very keen to meet you, Vinnie.” 

“Hello there,” Draco says, stepping closer to the pram. “Actually, I have a present for you too,” he adds, gently stroking the top of the baby’s head.

Draco retrieves a plush owl from his inner coat pocket. Vincent eagerly reaches for it, his tiny fists clutching at the cuddly toy.

Pansy takes her wand and casts a spell. Ten silver stars appear and start floating in a circle above the pram. A fascinated Vincent watches them with wide eyes and a huge smile.

“I fed him before you got here, so he’ll be sleeping soon,” Pansy says. “You know, I’ve heard horror stories about babies’ behaviour, but he’s a good boy, hardly ever screams, cries or fusses.”

Draco smiles. He takes off his coat and sits down across from his friend.

They both study the menu.

“Oh, they’ve got Black Forest Gateau,” Draco pipes up. “Brilliant! I haven’t had that in ages. I suppose that takes care of my order, then.”

“I’ll have some too, I think,” Pansy ponders. “Though I probably shouldn’t indulge too much. It took me forever to lose the pregnancy flab and it’s still not completely gone.”

“Please.” Draco smirks. “You’re as thin as a rake! Always were.”

Pansy smiles initially but then regards him with a worried frown. “You seem to have lost weight too since I last saw you.”

“Yes,” he replies dryly. “Regularly being forced to watch the Dark Lord’s giant snake devour people whole seems to have wreaked serious havoc on my appetite.”

“What?” Pansy blinks. “You… You’re not joking, are you?”

Draco shakes his head. “No, unfortunately, that’s one of many lovely things I was subjected to while that... _monster_ and his most distinguished minions resided at our Manor.”

Pansy shudders.

“Anyway,” Draco continues. “I didn’t come here to upset you and we probably shouldn’t be discussing such horrific matters in front of a child either, even if he’s still too young to understand what we're saying. The thing is: I’ve mostly been living on fruit, chocolate and sweet treats these past few months; almost everything else has lost its appeal to me and some foods I used to love truly disgust me now.”

“I see. Well, so long as you’re still eating, I suppose that’s the main thing.”

A waiter walks into the room and takes their order. Not before long, two slices of cake and a large pot of strong coffee are brought in.

Draco isn’t surprised to discover Pansy has also acquired a taste for coffee.   

“So how have you been?” he asks in between two mouthfuls. “And where? I gathered from your letter that you left Hogwarts right after the Final Battle to go and stay with an aunt?”

“Yes, more or less.”

Pansy takes a deep breath and begins to explain. On that fateful day in May, after Draco had once again told her to get lost, she packed some belongings into a small suitcase and fled the castle, not a clue where to go, but convinced she needed to leave immediately.

After two days and two nights, she found herself, hungry and exhausted, in the Muggle part of Edinburgh.

That’s where she saw it, as if through an act of fate: a poster announcing a conference that would be taking place in the city centre that very same day.

She didn’t have a clue what the conference was all about – the terms ‘internet’, ‘software’ and ‘Y2K compatibility’ meant absolutely nothing to her and the rest of the text might just as well have been Greek, too – but she did recognise the face of the lady who would be speaking. It was her aunt Morag, a Squib who’d been extremely successful in a couple of Muggle business ventures.

Thus, a desperate Pansy took a leap of faith, went to the conference and demanded to see her aunt.

After more than an hour of pleading with some very unsympathetic security personnel, she finally managed to speak with Morag, and the outcome of their conversation was far better than she’d dared to hope.

Although the woman hadn’t seen her niece in almost ten yeas – having distanced herself from both the Wizarding World and her bigoted relatives – she still cared enough to offer the girl her help.

“You can’t imagine how relieved I was, Draco. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise, whom I could’ve turned to. I owe her my life, and my son’s, too.”

Draco nods slowly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he mutters, and he is, more than he can express. Ever since he learned the truth about Pansy’s then predicament, he’s felt wretchedly guilty and plain awful about the whole thing.

“And I’m sorry I never listened,” he continues. “You tried so many times to explain. I’ve been a pitiful excuse for a friend.” He shakes his head sadly. “If only I could turn back the clock...”

Pansy gives him a small smile. “You always were as stubborn as a mule, Draco, and honestly, I can’t really blame you for how angry you were. What I told Bellatrix, especially about your infatuation with Potter, could have caused you a lot of harm.”

“None of it was used against me in the end,” Draco says. “Not really, aside from some threats my aunt Bella made, but I do believe the Da- _He_ wanted me to hurt Harry and that’s why I was sent back to Hogwarts. I assume somewhere along the way, his plans must have changed rather abruptly, however, because he suddenly brought the fight to Hogwarts instead.”

Pansy frowns. She may have been through hell, but she remains as sharp as a tack. Besides, she’s known Draco since they were both eleven and he’s been like a brother to her for almost as long. She never misses a beat where he’s concerned. “You just called Potter ‘Harry’,” she points out simply.

“Did I?” Draco asks a little too innocently with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile on his face.

Pansy smirks. “Yes, you most certainly did.” She gives him a meaningful look. “So spill! What’s going on that you’re on a first name basis with him now? Did the two of you miraculously become friends or something?”

Draco’s smile turns into a full-blown grin. “Something,” he replies with a fake air of mystery.

“What?” Pansy’s eyes widen. “Are you saying you’re dating him?”

“It’s… more than dating. We’re actually rather serious about us, about each other… ” He trails off, the grin never leaving his face.

“But when? How?” She laughs softly. “My goodness, I can hardly believe it!”

“Neither can I sometimes,” Draco admits sincerely. “I never thought he’d feel that way about me after everything, not in a million years, but he does.”

“So, I shall ask again: how? Come on, Draco, you can’t just drop that massive a bombshell on me and not share any of the juicy details!”

Draco smiles. It’s his turn to explain, to tell the tale of how Harry followed him up to the Astronomy Tower one night and how in a matter of days they went from former enemies and bitter rivals to close friends.

“Somehow, we ended up spending all our spare time together, talking about everything and nothing in particular, like we’d been that chummy forever and then one night, out of the blue, he kissed me,” Draco finishes, grinning at the memory. He doesn’t mention what happened next – it’s too private by far – but Pansy gets the general gist regardless.

“So,” she says with a wide smile. “Draco finally got his man.”

“Indeed he did.”

"I won’t ask you if Potter makes you happy, though, because the answer is written all over your face. You’re practically beaming every time you mention his name!”

Draco chuckles.

“So do your other friends know? And your parents?”

“Everyone knows,” Draco replies. “And before you ask, yes that does include my father.”

“Wow!” Pansy giggles. “How did Lucius take it?”

“Surprisingly well. He even agreed for Harry to spend Christmas Hols at the Manor with us.”

“Really? That’s quite a turn up for the books, isn’t it?”

Draco nods. “I’ll have to take Harry shopping before we go, though. You know how in my family we always dress for dinner and Harry’s current wardrobe is simply ghastly. Something I’ll have to try to tell him one of these days without causing offence. I suspect he still won’t like it much, however.”

“Do the two of you still fight a lot? I mean, after so many years of hostility…”

“Amazingly, no. We did have one argument recently that could’ve turned quite devastating if I hadn’t swallowed my pride and held my tongue, but mostly we don’t argue at all. If I’m entirely honest, I think we’re a bit scared to. We’ve become so attached to each other – so dependent on each other, even, in a way – we wouldn’t want to wreck things between us by falling into old habits.” Draco sighs. “Truly, Pans, if I lost him now….”

“Yes, I think I understand.” Pansy briefly checks on Vincent, who’s already sound asleep. She’s glad she brought him along today and that Draco was finally able to meet him.

“You know.” She speaks again. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. Or ask you, rather.”

“What’s that? If you need money or something, of course that won’t be a problem.”

“No.” She smiles. “Nothing like that. We have everything we need, Aunt Morag is very well off, but the thing is…”

“Yes?”

Pansy takes a deep breath. “My aunt is Vincent’s godmother, but he doesn’t have a godfather yet, and I’ve been thinking… Would you be willing to be that for him?”

Draco’s jaw drops. "What?"

“Obviously you shouldn’t feel obligated, but you're my best friend, I love you like the brother I never had, and there's no one I'd rather ask.”

Draco swallows hard. He’s deeply touched but also somewhat taken aback. What if he messes this up too?

“Are you quite sure about this, Pans?” he ventures carefully, after a brief but loaded silence. “Vincent is your son, no doubt the most precious person on earth to you. I’m a Marked Death Eater with a questionable reputation and I’ve already proven to you countless times that I’m stubborn, selfish and unwilling to listen to reason. Do you really trust me to be a good influence on him, to help take care of him if needed?”

Pansy nods. “Draco, there isn't a single person I trust more.”

Draco frowns. He’s done terrible, unforgivable things. He’s made stupid choices and awful decisions, but he hopes he can do better and there and then, he promises himself he'll try; for Harry, for Pansy, for little Vincent…

He inhales sharply. “In that case, yes, I’d be happy and honoured to be your son's godfather. I’ll Owl my family’s legal people first thing in the morning so we can sort out the practicalities.”

“Thank you.” Pansy reaches across the table and takes his hands in hers. “And don’t worry. You’ll be brilliant, sweetheart, you’ll see.”

Draco smiles uncertainly. “I hope you’re right.”

 

 

****

 

 

“He’s still not back, Hermione,” Harry remarks, sounding frantic. It’s just gone a quarter past nine and they’re on their way to the library.

“He and Pansy must have a lot to catch up on,” Hermione says reasonably, “and they did meet up rather late as well. I imagine they simply lost track of time.”

The sound of creaking hinges attracts Harry’s attention. He spots Draco walking into the entrance hall.

Eyes wide in astonishment, Hermione watches her best friend bolt down the enchanted staircase, taking two, sometimes three steps at the time. How he manages not to trip and make a nasty tumble is nothing short of a miracle.

Draco has barely closed the heavy door when someone pulls him into a crushing hug.

“What on earth?” he exclaims, but as soon as he realises whose arms he’s in, he continues in a softer tone, “Hey, what's all this? Is something wrong?”

"No,” Harry says, burying his head against Draco’s shoulder. “I’m just incredibly relieved.”

“Why?” Draco frowns. “How do you mean? Did something happen here while I was in Hogsmeade? Nothing involving Weasley or Woundsworth again, I hope?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, things here were fine, but you were gone for so long. I thought something might have happened to you.”

“Happened to me? I was only with Pansy. And with little Vincent, who’s utterly adorable, by the way.”

“Yes, but you never know. You could have been attacked or kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Draco holds Harry a bit tighter. “Merlin, did you really think that? I had no idea you’d worry so much. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t know I’d be so worried either,” Harry mutters, feeling guilty. “But maybe I should have. I mean, I suppose... No, I’m sure it’s my biggest fear now, losing more people I love, and if you disappeared from my life as well, I just don’t know how I’d cope. I…” He shakes his head again. “Bloody hell, I must sound pathetic, like a clingy, needy sod. I’m sorry.”

Draco sighs. Releasing Harry, he steps back a bit so he can look him in the eye. “No, you don’t sound like anything of the sort, and the next time I go somewhere you’re either tagging along or I’m taking some kind of communication device with me so you'll be able to contact me should you feel the need. There are these two-way mirrors, for example, which would be perfect for that purpose.”

Harry smiles slightly. “Yeah, I know. I talked with Sirius through one of those. It broke at some point, though, so I no longer have it, and I have no idea what happened to the one he used."

“Then we’ll just have to acquire some new ones, won’t we? I’ve heard they’re quite rare, but I expect Mother will know how to get our hands on a set.”

“All right.” Harry lets out a relieved breath. “So how did things go with Pansy?”

“Very well. I think we’ve undone most of the damage to our friendship. She even asked me to be Vincent’s godfather.”

“That’s great!”

Draco nods. “Somewhat daunting too, frankly, but I agreed anyway.”

“You’ll do fine,” Harry reassures him, and then asks, “So are you headed for the kitchens now, or did you already have dinner?”

“Still tracking my eating habits, I see,” Draco replies with a slight grin, “and the answer is: I’m completely stuffed after scoffing four slices of Black Forest Gateau, so I won’t be eating for a while. How I still managed the long walk back here, I don’t know, but right now I’m off to my dorm where I hopefully won’t slip into a food-induced coma.”

Harry chuckles.

“I’ll see you later tonight, all right?”

Harry nods. He wraps his arms around Draco and temporarily forgetting where they are and that they’re nowhere near alone, he kisses him passionately.

A moment later, he's startled by a loud cough. He releases Draco, turns around and finds the Headmistress standing there.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,” she declares in a stern tone. “Much as it pleases me to see the two of you have settled your differences and traded in your silly, childish squabbling for something far more positive, please do keep in mind that there are young children present at this school and in my opinion, it’s hardly appropriate to subject them to these... _elaborate_ displays of affection.” She pauses a beat and then adds matter-of-factly, “Furthermore, I believe you have claimed one of the castle’s unused rooms for your romantic rendezvous, so there truly is no need to get amorous in the corridors.”

Harry blushes beet red whereas Draco smiles – a little too smugly, in Harry’s opinion – and replies, “No. Our apologies, Headmistress; it won’t happen again.”

McGonagall nods. “Very well. Good night, gentlemen.” She turns on her heel and walks away, unable to stop the amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“She's found out we’ve been using the Room,” Harry mutters. “Bugger!”

“She probably knows about everything that goes on in this castle, or almost everything,” Draco says. “I often got the impression Dumbledore did as well.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I don't understand how that’s even possible.”

Draco shrugs. “Gossiping portraits? Loose-lipped ghosts? Hogwarts' Magic at work again? Anyway, I suppose it hardly matters. If McGonagall knows we’re using the Room, but voices no objections, it doesn’t change anything for us.”

“I’m surprised she doesn’t object, actually, Draco.”

He shrugs again. “We _are_ legal adults and in case you’ve forgotten: you’re Harry Potter; the school rules tend to bend a lot more easily for you than they do for anyone else.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“Anyway, Harry.” Draco looks up at Hermione, who’s still standing on the staircase, keeping a discreet distance but watching them intently. “I’ll see you later tonight. I need a little rest and I believe Granger wants you for something.”

“Um, yeah, we’re going to fetch some books.”

Draco kisses Harry on the cheek. “Later, then.” 

“Bye, Draco.”

As Draco walks away, Hermione descends the stairs. Harry notices she has an odd expression on her face and she also seems to be staring at him. It's a little unnerving. “Why are you gawking at me like that?” he blurts out once she's standing next to him.

Hermione smiles awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t realise I was. I’m just a bit stunned, I suppose.”

Harry frowns. “Why?”

“Not for a bad reason, believe me, don’t worry. It’s the way Malf- _Draco_ acts towards you, looks at you…”

“Yes?”

Hermione bites her lip. She doesn’t know how to adequately communicate what she means and that's not like her at all usually, but she never expected to see as much affection and devotion reflected in such simple touches and looks as she did just now, when she witnessed her best friend and his former school nemesis interact. Realising how deeply those two obviously care about each other has left her irritatingly close to speechless.

Harry is still waiting for an answer, so finally she says, “I know you're mad about him, and I guess I should have seen it long before today, but Draco truly loves you back, doesn’t he?”

A wide grin spreads across Harry’s face. “Yeah, Hermione, he does.”

Arm in arm, they leave for the library.

 


	18. Chapter 18

“You must realise that if you add the Mugwort last, the mixture won’t boil as fast as it’s supposed to. Your concoction will also curdle, which isn’t problematic in itself – it won’t change the effectiveness of the potion as such – but Slughorn is bound to deduct points for sloppiness. You know what he’s like.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“And furthermore…”

“Good grief,” Ron remarks to Harry, as they both return to their seats. “Those two together are a bloody nightmare. Discussing schoolwork on the train home for Winter Hols, who the hell does that?”

“Your girlfriend and my boyfriend, apparently,” Harry replies dryly. He still isn’t sure how, over the course of the past few weeks, coincidentally mutual study sessions in the library turned Draco and Hermione into almost-friends, but it’s a development which pleases him all the same.

“Seven shades of bonkers is what they are!” Ron grumbles.

Grinning, Harry shakes his head, and sits back down next to Draco.

Draco stops talking Potions for a moment to smile at Harry. “So, did you find the snacks you wanted? Or didn’t the Trolley Witch come along this time?”

“No, she was there,” Harry replies. “I had some crisps, and I got you something as well.” He hands Draco a bar of dark chocolate.

“Thanks.” Draco rips off the wrapper and takes a bite. “Excellent choice.”

Harry smiles. Across from him, Ron flicks open a Quidditch magazine while Draco and Hermione resume their earlier chat.

Harry sinks further back into his seat. He didn’t catch a wink of sleep last night. The prospect of living under the same roof as Lucius for two weeks had him restless with nerves. Truth be told, that part of his stay at Malfoy Manor continues to fill him with dread, but here and now, fatigue is getting the upper hand.

Harry closes his eyes and soon the chugging of the train lulls him into slumber.

 

 

****

 

When Harry wakes up, his head is resting against Draco’s shoulder and one of Draco’s arms is wrapped around him.

“Rise and shine, Potter,” a familiar voice near his right ear drawls. “We’ll be arriving at King’s Cross shortly. Time to return to the land of the living and grab your stuff.”

"Oh. Yeah. Right!”

Scrambling upright, Harry busies himself getting ready. He only has the one piece of luggage with him and all things considered, he’s extremely grateful for shrinking spells today. The medium-sized trunk contains not only his _Nimbus 2000_ but also the boatload of fancy clothes Draco made him buy in Hogsmeade three weeks ago.

Truth be told, Harry wasn’t keen on that shopping spree. If anything, the thought of formal wear made him shudder. He felt like he was about to look a complete fool at the Yule Ball all over again—minus, possibly, the painfully embarrassing attempts at dancing. By the end of the day, however, he was surprisingly happy with everything Draco had helped him pick out.

Even as a child, Harry strongly disliked his own appearance: that wild, untameable hair, those dull prescription glasses the NHS paid for, Dudley’s tatty oversized clothes he was made to wear, and finally his scrawny body underneath, a result of too little nutrition and too many growth spurts. That afternoon in Hogsmeade, though, Harry was stunned to realise he actually looked halfway presentable in his new outfits.

Draco was impressed, too. “Well, Harry,” he said smugly. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you if you’re wearing that. Admirers will be throwing themselves at you left and right, and it won’t have anything to do with your past heroics this time around.” Harry, rather predictably, blushed a deep crimson at that and told his boyfriend to shut up, although deep down, he was delighted at the compliment.

Together, Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione disembark the train and step out onto the platform. A few minutes later, Ginny and Neville join them. They were seated in a compartment a few wagons down, along with two Hufflepuff girls from Ginny’s year.

Standing there, Draco can’t help but feel out of place amongst all those Gryffindors — one of whom is Harry’s ex-girlfriend, no less — but he’s too proud to let on.

None of his own friends came along on the Hogwarts Express.

Blaise will be spending Christmas in Italy with his mother and her new beau. To everyone’s astonishment, he took a regular Muggle taxi to a regular Muggle airport, and didn’t utter a single complaint about it. Draco supposes two weeks in Palermo must be worth the inconvenience.

Gregory, for his part, will be staying at Hogwarts. His mother suggested he’d be safer there, and Draco suspects Daphne’s presence at the castle over the Hols might have something to do with Gregory’s decision as well. He hasn’t failed to notice how those two have been spending rather a lot of time together these past few weeks.

“Oh, look!” Ginny pipes up. “Dad’s here! That’s our ride, then.” She turns towards Harry. “Have a good Holiday,” she says and hugs him briefly. “You too, Malfoy.”

Draco nods. “Thank you, Ginevra, and the same to you.”

“See you both in January,” Neville says with a grin, before trailing after his girlfriend.

It’s Hermione who speaks next. “Harry, we’ll all miss you terribly this Christmas, but I do hope you’ll have a lovely time at the Manor.”

“Thanks,” Harry replies as he finds himself enveloped in a tight hug. “You too.”

Hermione releases her best friend and shifts her attention to Draco, who smiles a bit awkwardly under her determined gaze. “I’ll be sure to locate that book for you, the one we spoke about,” he says. “It should still be in our library.”

He holds out a hand for her to shake, but Hermione rolls her eyes, mutters something about _silly_ _boys_ and throws her arms around him. “See you in January, Draco.”

“Right, yes,” Draco mutters, uneasily returning the embrace. “You too, Granger.”

Ron watches the exchange with a part-amused, part-baffled look before facing Harry. “Enjoy your Christmas, mate, and remember, we’re only an Owl away if anything should go wrong. Not...” He holds up a hand to stop any argument in advance. “That I’m expecting anything bad will happen, but you know, just in case you need us… for anything at all... you know where we are, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Cheers.”

Ron hesitates a beat before addressing Draco. He knows he’ll get an earful from his girlfriend if he just ignores the prat, though he’d still prefer to do so, frankly. Just because the Ferret’s snogging Harry and through some bizarre twist of fate has become rather chummy with Hermione doesn’t mean Ron has to suddenly like the git, too. He’ll tolerate him for the sake of keeping the peace and not upsetting Harry, but that’s it and they’d better not expect anything more from him either!

“See you, Malfoy,” Ron says at last. “Have a good Holiday.”

“You too, Weasley,” Draco replies in a neutral tone.

With that, Hermione and Ron walk off to join Neville, Ginny and Arthur. The latter gives Harry a friendly wave before leaving the station. Harry half expected him to come over for a chat instead, but he supposes the man respects his need for space.

“All right,” Draco says. “Let’s see whether our carriage is already here, shall we?”

Harry nods. “All right.”

“Still nervous?”

“Merlin, yes,” Harry replies honestly. “Draco, your father…”

“Will be on his best behaviour, I promise. Mother will see to it. Come on.”

Draco takes Harry’s hand and together, they head for the exit.

 

 

****

 

 

By the time they arrive in Wiltshire, darkness has fallen.

Despite the thick patch of snow on the ground and the new illuminated fountain – all grapes, vine leaves and chubby cherubs – on the front lawn, Malfoy Manor looks as unwelcoming as Harry remembers it, if not even more so; a dark, ominous building that makes number twelve, Grimmauld Place seem cosy in comparison.

According to Draco, the mansion’s interior has been completely refurbished and redecorated at Narcissa’s insistence, but this knowledge doesn’t lessen Harry’s reluctance to walk through the front door in the slightest. Countless unspeakable horrors taint this place—torture, rape, murder…

A chill runs up and down Harry’s spine. Why ever did he think coming back here would be a good idea?

_Because you’d_ _be completely miserable and do nothing but mope around_ _morning, noon and night if you had to spend two weeks without Draco,_ his inner voice reminds him mockingly.

Harry takes a deep breath and follows his boyfriend up the garden path. To his amazement, it’s Narcissa herself and not one the many House Elves who comes to greet them.

"Hello my darling,” she says, pulling Draco into a crushing hug. “I’m so glad to have you home.”

"Mother,” he replies with a wide smile. “I’m very happy to be here.”

“Good evening, Mr Potter,” Narcissa continues as she releases her son and steps forward to shake Harry’s hand. “Welcome to our home.”

Harry gives her a polite smile. “Mrs Malfoy.”

The three of them enter the hallway. Harry notices it does look totally different and vastly improved from what he recalls. The light, shiny parquet is definitely new, as are the paintings of lush country landscapes adorning the walls. There isn’t a single family portrait to be seen anywhere, and the heavy, dark draperies have been removed as well.

Harry’s heart almost stops beating when a side door – to a study, he presumes – opens and Lucius appears. With an air of arrogance, he strides towards them. Clearly any humility or remorse the man may have felt right after the war has long since vanished.

“Good to see you, son,” he says, patting Draco on the shoulder. “Nice to have you join us for the Festivities.”

“Father,” Draco states simply. “You’re looking well.”

To Harry, their interaction appears theatrically stiff, forced almost, but then he can’t imagine Lucius Malfoy being the affectionate type, and certainly not in the company of people he considers to be outsiders like Harry.

“Mr Potter,” Lucius continues, his tone  overly formal now. “I do hope, for the duration of your stay, you will feel at home here.”

The words seem to hold a sinister undertone, but perhaps that’s merely Harry’s imagination working overtime. He swallows thickly and shakes the proffered hand. “Thank you,” he replies, relieved his voice doesn’t falter when he does.

For a moment, he wonders why Lucius wears gloves inside the house and instantly he’s reminded of all the detective dramas his Aunt Petunia used to watch on the telly. The killer always wore gloves so he wouldn’t leave behind any fingerprints and give himself away.

For his own peace of mind, Harry quickly abandons that train of thought, however, and instead concentrates on Andromeda who’s walking towards them with a warm smile on her face just as Lucius stalks off again.

“Hello boys,” she says, hugging first Draco and then Harry tightly. Her presence immediately puts Harry a lot more at ease. He’s met her a few times before, mostly because he wanted to spend some time with his godson. She was always very kind to him and it seems she and Draco are growing close as well.

“Harry, I hope you don’t mind waiting until tomorrow morning before you see Teddy,” she continues. “He’s sound asleep, finally, and if we wake him now it’ll be hours before he settles down again. He’s a very excitable and energetic chap, not unlike his mother was at that age.” Her eyes mist over slightly when she thinks about the daughter she lost, but her brave smile never fades.

“Sure,” Harry replies. “No problem.”

“All right, then. I should probably retire as well, leave you lads to it. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know,” Andromeda says with a wink and bids them goodnight.

Narcissa speaks next. “Breakfast will be served at nine. Now, let me show you both to Draco’s redecorated room. I do hope you’ll approve of what we’ve done with it, darling.”

The trio ascends the staircase, Harry and Draco’s suitcases levitating behind them.

When Harry walks through the door, he barely resists the urge to gasp. Draco’s room is massive, at least twice the size of the Dursleys’ living room. It has its own private ensuite bathroom and a huge walk-in closet as well.

“You can put all your things in there with mine,” Draco tells Harry. “There’s plenty of space.”

Harry can only nod dumbly.

“So, Draco,” Narcissa enquires. “What do you think? As you can see, the new wallpaper is green as well, but I’ve selected a more pastel shade this time. We’ve also hung suncatchers in the windows to make everything lighter and more pleasant. Obviously, the hardwood floor is new, too. It’s solid white oak and it looks so much nicer than those stuffy old antique rugs that were here before, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco replies, genuinely pleased. “I love everything you’ve done here. Thank you!”

Narcissa smiles. “I’ll let you two get settled in. Would you like the Elves to bring you some dinner?”

“Yes, please,” Draco says.

Harry nods his agreement. He hasn’t eaten properly since breakfast – those crisps and chocolates on the train hardly count – and the long journey here has left him pretty peckish.

“All right,” Narcissa says. “Good night.” With that, she sweeps out of the room.

“So, what do you think, Harry?” Draco ventures once his mother is out of earshot. “Do you suppose you’ll be comfortable here for the next two weeks?”

“I’ll find a way to manage somehow,” Harry replies with a mischievous grin, then continues, his tone serious again, “I’m surprised I wasn’t given a guest room, though. Did you tell your mum we sleep together?”

Draco shakes his head and chuckles. “Not as such, we’re not that blunt around here, Harry. She did ask me about sleeping arrangements, whether you’d be needing your own room. I told her you didn’t and that was that.”

“Oh.”

Draco frowns. “You don’t mind her knowing, do you? I didn’t think you’d be embarrassed about..” He gestures between them. 

“No,” Harry says quickly. “No, I’m not. Not at all, don’t think that for a second. I’m just surprised. Ron and Hermione are put in separate rooms at The Burrow and I’m sure Ginny and Neville will be as well, unless Neville’s gone to his gran’s for Christmas; I'm not quite sure what his plans are…”

Draco smiles a little smugly. “I suppose my parents must be less old-fashioned than the Weasleys, then.”

“Maybe.” Harry grins. “Not that I’m complaining, mind; this certainly beats sneaking around in the small hours just to be able to share a bed with you.”

“Quite,” Draco says dryly. He wants to add more, but with matching _pop_ s two Elves appear. One of them conjures a table and two chairs, while the other has a large tray of goodies with him.

All the food and drink is placed on the table, along with plates, cups and cutlery, after which the Elves are gone again.

Draco smiles when he sees the big bowl of fresh fruit. His mother isn’t pleased with his current eating habits—they rather worry her, in fact—but at least she doesn't make matters more difficult than they need to be by pressing the issue and nagging him.

Harry sits down and helps himself to some piping hot parsnip soup and a succulent roast beef sandwich.

“This is great,” he says in between bites. “Do you want to try?” He breaks a piece off his sandwich and offers it to Draco.

Draco sighs deeply, but doesn’t protest. He takes a bite, just to make Harry happy, but predictably finds the sandwich has no taste to him at all, or perhaps it reminds him a little of what he expects eating dry old parchment would be like.

Draco quickly swallows everything down before giving Harry an apologetic smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just stick to my fruit bowl.”

“All right.” Harry mumbles. Then something occurs to him. “How are you planning on coping with Christmas dinner, though?”

Draco shrugs. “I’ll just drown everything in cranberry sauce and hope for the best,” he replies with a small smile.

Harry sighs. “Sorry.”

Draco shrugs again. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. I won’t starve.”

Harry grabs another sandwich off his plate and decides to change the subject. “You know earlier, when you were saying goodbye to Hermione?”

“Mm?”

“What book were you talking about?”

“Ah,” Draco replies, spooning up some mango. “An advanced tome on reversing memory alteration charms. It’s in our library downstairs. I think it might be helpful to her.”

Harry blinks in surprise. “She told you about _Obliviating_ her parents then? Wow.”

Draco smiles. “I don’t think she planned to divulge that information, originally, but last week when I was in the school library, researching that blasted weed killer thing for Herbology, she was stalking along the shelves, taking out one book after another, glaring at their contents like she wanted to set them on fire… Her odd behaviour was becoming an irritating distraction, so I asked what exactly she was looking for. At that point, she was pretty rattled, so I suppose she blurted out the whole story before she even realised.”

Harry smiles. “I think you’re great, doing this for her.”

Draco shakes his head. “Hardly. I was horrible to her for years, called her that awful name so many times… Just because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Harry frowns. “Why? Because she often got the highest marks in our year?”

Draco hesitates. “There was that, too, I suppose, but mostly I resented her because she was your friend. For a while I even thought you were in love with her, or would be at one point. Merlin, I was so angry then, at the both of you…” He shakes his head again, wishing he could travel back in time and slap some sense into his fourteen-year-old self. “Anyway, I can’t take back those ugly words and actions, but maybe I can still make it up to her somehow… And besides, she must miss her parents terribly. I don't wish that on anyone.”

Harry nods. “She does, yeah. She has the Weasleys now, of course, Arthur and Molly love her like a daughter, but it’s not the same.”

“No. It couldn’t possibly be.”

“So, like I said, Draco,” Harry reiterates with a wide smile. “I think you’re pretty great, helping her like this.”

Draco rolls his eyes, but fails to stop an uncharacteristically goofy grin from spreading across his face, for at least a second or so. “Finish your soup, Potter,” he says dismissively, “before it gets cold.”

Harry chuckles, but decides to let the subject rest. For now.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry wakes up feeling warm and cosy, and immediately understands why. He’s lying between soft sheets, snuggled against Draco’s bare back, with one of his arms draped loosely across Draco’s waist. He smiles widely when he realises they fell asleep holding hands and are still doing so.

Harry sighs contentedly and scoots a bit closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Draco’s shoulder. Never before in his life — at least not in so far as he can recall — did he know the kind of happiness he's felt ever since this relationship began, or experienced such a strong sense of belonging that fills him with hope and confidence for the future.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a sleepy voice murmurs.

"Mmmm.”

“No nightmares?”

“None. I slept like a log.”

Harry supposes he must have been tired from the long trip, and of course he also went to bed feeling blissfully relaxed after an intense lovemaking session in the shower. Nonetheless, he’s surprised. He never imagined he’d feel this comfortable at Malfoy Manor.

“How about you?” he asks Draco.

“I didn’t have any bad dreams either.” Draco brings Harry’s hand to his lips and tenderly kisses the back of it, before he adds, “You know, I was quite nervous about coming back here after everything that happened, but I’m actually really glad to be home now, in my own room. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it. And it's so good to have you here with me.” He chuckles to himself. “Harry Potter in my room, in my bed. Somewhere in another world, my fifteen-year-old self must be doing somersaults on his broomstick right now.”

“As long as he stays right where he is.” Harry smirks. “You were an insufferable git at that age. Anyway, what time is it? I can’t see the alarm clock properly from here.”

“A quarter to eight,” Draco replies. “Why? Did you have plans before breakfast?”

Harry grins. “Maybe.”

“Wicked ones involving me?”

"Maybe,” Harry repeats, this time whispering the word before he kisses the back of Draco’s neck.

“You really can’t get enough of me, can you, Potter?”

“Back to _Potter_ , are we?” 

Harry releases Draco’s hand, and lets his fingers glide down Draco’s torso and into Draco’s pyjama bottoms. “It would seem I’m not the only one here who’s insatiable, _Malfoy_ ,” he remarks with a snigger. He curls his hand around the half-hard length and slowly begins to pump it.

Draco moans in appreciation.

Harry scoots closer, kisses a sensitive spot just below Draco’s ear, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco breathes back. He reaches a hand behind him and slides it up Harry’s thigh. “How do you want me?”

“Inside me, but… um… I’d like to ride you.” Harry's glad he isn’t facing Draco when he says that last part because _damn it_ , he’s blushing.

“All right. Hang on.” Draco takes off his pyjama bottoms and turns to lie on his back.

Harry removes his boxers and positions himself above Draco. Without his glasses, Harry’s vision is far from perfect, but he can still appreciate the sight of Draco’s naked body, his perfect pale skin, that flat abdomen, those long slim legs…

“Your hair’s getting long,” Draco says, and runs his fingers through it.

“Yeah. The last time it was cut was sometime before the summer. It’s a bit of a disaster now... More than usual, anyway.”

“I think it’s gorgeous, actually.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Harry teases.

Draco raises an eyebrow in amusement. “Are you quite sure about that, mmmm, given our current location, position and state of undress?”

Harry grins sheepishly. “Well...”

Draco slowly trails a hand along Harry’s face. “You know, you’ll have to make me harder if you’re going to...”

Harry bends down and gently kisses him on the lips. ”Or… er…” He hesitates. “Maybe you could do it yourself?”  

”One of these days,” Draco says with a grin, “you should watch me pleasure myself until I come.”

Harry swallows. “I-I don’t think I’d be able to just keep watching.”

Draco tangles one hand in Harry’s hair, and reaches the other down to stroke his own cock—slowly, lightly, letting the sensations build and linger, all the while relishing the lust in Harry’s gaze as it increases with every second, every stroke.

Draco moans loudly from his own touches and further aroused by the way Harry is looking at him with flushed cheeks, wide eyes and an unmistakable hardness pressing against Draco’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Harry manages, his breathing ragged. “Draco, I need you inside me.” He quickly casts their usual lubrication spell. “Now.”

“Go ahead. I’m all yours.”

Slowly, Harry sinks down onto Draco’s cock. Groaning, he shifts slightly to find the right angle, and begins to move.

Draco thrusts upwards, following Harry’s lead, and reaches his hands up to caress Harry’s sensitive nipples, stroking them in small circular movements.

Harry gasps.

They move faster, Harry grabbing hold of Draco’s shoulders. “Touch me,” he whispers urgently. 

Draco wraps a hand around Harry’s dick.

“Yes,” Harry manages in between moans. “Faster. Please.”

They move together once more, Draco meeting Harry thrust for thrust. The bed creaks loudly underneath them, and Draco is grateful for the silencing and privacy charms he put up last night, just in case.

Harry increases his pace further, moaning, gasping and breathing heavily.

It takes all of Draco’s self control to not let go. He’s incredibly close. “Harry,” he manages. “I can’t hold back much longer. This is too... I need to come... I can’t… Oh wow...”

"Draco... Oh... Draco... _Fuck_... Oh!”

Harry throws his head back, and with a loud groan, shoots his release over Draco’s hand and stomach while Draco, too, reaches completion, gasping Harry's name.

They lie there in silence for a few minutes, until Draco says, still sounding somewhat breathless, “I think we need another shower.”

Stifling a yawn, Harry rolls off him and onto his side, and grins. “I wouldn’t say no to a nap either.”

“No time for that, I’m afraid. Besides, you need a hearty breakfast this morning, to get your strength back up.”

Harry laughs softly. “That was pretty wild, wasn’t it?”

Draco chuckles. “Yes, and absolutely brilliant.”

“Mmm.” Harry leans closer for a slow, lingering kiss. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Draco says. “Time to get ready to face the day.”

“And your father,” Harry adds grimly.

“Yes.” Draco smiles. “Him as well, but we can go flying later if you'd like.”

“Yes, provided I survive breakfast,” Harry deadpans.

 

 

****

 

Harry takes a deep, bracing breath and follows Draco into the dining room; or rather, one of the dining rooms. He’s been told they use a different one for dinner, and another, still larger one for extra special occasions.

“Good morning,” Narcissa says pleasantly, pouring herself a cup of strong coffee. “I hope you boys slept well.”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco replies. He walks over to where she’s sitting, kisses her on the cheek, and moves to his own chair before continuing, “Good morning Father, Aunt Andromeda.”

With a polite smile, Harry exchanges greetings with the three people seated at the table.

Lucius looks him up and down as though he’s assessing him — Harry assumes he probably is — before focusing his attention back on his newspaper, which to Harry’s astonishment turns out to be _The Financial Times_.

Harry sits down across from Draco, who gives him an encouraging smile.

“If you’re wondering about Teddy, Harry,” Andromeda speaks up. “He’s upstairs in the nursery. Ever since he’s learned how to crawl, there’s nothing he likes to do more when he’s awake, so Brody the Elf is watching him at the moment.”

“Yes,” Lucius cuts in dryly. “We wouldn’t want him _wolfing_ around the house, getting up to all sorts…”

Harry blinks. “Wolfing around? Has Teddy been showing signs, then? Of his Werewolf side, I mean? I wasn’t aware… I mean, no one told me anything about that.”

“It was merely a figure of speech, Mr Potter,” Lucius replies, addressing him as one might a clueless child that’s asked one too many irritating questions. “Thus far, Edward has yet to exhibit any symptoms of the Lycanthropy he may or may not have been infected with through his paternal genes. We are, however, keeping a close eye on him, and will continue to do so. After all, there also exists the chance that his… _condition_ won’t manifest itself until he reaches his teenage years.”

“I see,” Harry mutters.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Andromeda interjects soothingly. “Teddy is a perfectly healthy boy. You can see him after breakfast. And whatever the future might bring, he won’t be affected by the Wolfsbane shortage; we’ve taken all the necessary measures to prevent that.”

Again Harry finds himself stumped. "Wolfsbane shortage?” he parrots dumbly.

Draco nods. Inwardly, he cringes at how this topic was somehow broached at the breakfast table, and during Harry’s first breakfast at the Manor, no less. He fervently hopes this isn’t an indication of more turmoil on the horizon—and whatever happened to his father being on his best behaviour anyway, he wonders?

“Fenrir Greyback and his pack,” Draco begins to explain, “indulged in something of a rampage during the war.”

“Fenrir has a pack?” Harry blurts out. It’s the first he hears of this, too, and even though he supposes by now he should be used to the Ministry and other Bigwigs withholding information from him, it still stings to discover that, once again, he was kept in the dark about something he really would have preferred to have been made aware of.

“Not anymore,” Draco replies. “As I understand it, all of them were lured into a trap and captured, including Fenrir himself.”

“That is correct,” Lucius says. “I provided the Minister with the location of Greyback’s lair personally. All its occupants were successfully apprehended, with many being eliminated on the spot along with their loathsome leader.”

In Harry’s opinion, Lucius sounds inappropriately smug and entirely too proud of his little snitch job, but for the sake of peace and harmony, he holds his tongue. At least he now knows what happened to Greyback after the war, and it is reassuring that this monster no longer poses a threat to anyone.

“Right,” Draco continues, “but before they were… dealt with, they turned countless people – Wizards and Muggles alike – into werewolves, just for the fun of it, simply because they could.”

“Sick bastards,” Harry mutters.

“So, on the subject of Wolfsbane, seeing how the Werewolf population grew rather explosively during the war, suffice it to say, the demand for that potion far outweighs the supply at present. Not all required ingredients are easily obtained, and the brewing process itself can be tricky as well.”

“Oh.”

“But not to worry, Harry, we have our own fully equipped, state of the art lab downstairs and Severus taught me a long time ago how to brew Wolfsbane. It was one of the first potions I managed successfully, actually. Teddy will be all right.”

Harry nods, relieved, and looks up to see a small, brown owl arrive. Hooting loudly, the bird flies straight towards them.

"Are we familiar with that scrawny, scruffy beast?” Lucius demands, every word dripping with disdain.

“No,” Narcissa replies. “But it must be friendly, dear, or it never would have made it past our Wards.”

“Er, it’s one of the Weasleys’ owls,”  Harry offers as a letter is dropped in his lap.

“Yes, of course,” Lucius remarks with a condescending sneer. “It would be.”

“There you go,” Harry says, offering the bird a slice of bacon, which it gobbles up gratefully before flying off again.

Harry tears open the envelope and begins to read.

“Is it something important?” Draco asks.

“Um, yeah, sort of. It’s an invitation from Molly, for tea and cakes at The Burrow. On Boxing Day.”

“Would you like to accept? I expect they miss you.”

"Er, well,” Harry replies awkwardly. “Actually, the invitation is for the two of us. They’d like you to come, too.”

“Careful, Draco,” Lucius, who’s been listening in on the exchange with amusement as well great interest, supplies. “You wouldn’t want to catch a nasty disease, or risk entering a derelict shed that threatens to collapse around your ears every time someone sneezes a little too loudly.”

Draco’s eyes widen in shock. _Damn it, Father, was that truly necessary?_ He glances over at Harry, who’s looking down at his plate with a glum expression on his face.

"Darling! Really now!” Narcissa says in a stern tone, turning to her husband, and before a tense silence can set in, she starts chatting with Andromeda about shopping for last minute gifts and how utterly lovely it is to have a white Christmas again this year.

Harry feels Draco’s gaze on him and looks up to see a small, apologetic smile.

Harry gently places his hand atop Draco’s and smiles back. Lucius Malfoy is still a dickhead and probably always will be, but Harry refuses to let the man spoil his Christmas or cause trouble between him and Draco.

 

 

****

 

With rosy cheeks and a wide smile, Harry soars through the winter sky, after Draco. The temperatures are freezing, but with warm clothes, heating charms and the exhilaration of flying, he barely notices the cold at all.

Looking down, all he can think is that Malfoy Manor’s Grounds resemble a picture out of a fairy tale; all glistening snow, frozen puddles and ponds, and majestic, high trees for as far as the eye can see. The sight almost takes his breath away.

Harry glances at Draco again and a sudden panic sets in. “Hey!” he yells. “Watch out! You’re heading straight for that tree!”

“That’s the plan, Harry!” Draco shouts over his shoulder.

Harry’s eyes widen as the massive oak’s branches move aside to reveal a wooden construction, a tree house. Its door opens wide.

Draco steers his broomstick inside and Harry is quick to follow. The door immediately shuts behind them.   

Unmounting his broom, Harry looks around. He spots two comfortable sofas, a collection of throw pillows, a round table with four chairs, a sizeable bookcase bursting at the seams with reading material, and in the middle of the wall at the back of the room, a large fireplace with a roaring fire.   

There are also two steaming mugs on the table.

“Hot chocolate,” Draco says, removing his hat, mittens and cloak. “So what do you think of my secret hideout?”

Harry takes off his coat and gloves, too. “It’s brilliant!” he replies with a grin. “The fireplace is enchanted, right? I mean, there's no chimney and we’re in a tree...”

“Yes,” Draco replies with an amused smirk. “It’s completely done by magic.”

They each grab a mug off the table and move to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“The elves created this place for me at Mother’s request,” Draco says. “It stays cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and depending on the season, there will always be pumpkin juice or hot chocolate waiting for me and any guests I might bring. I used to spend a lot of time here when I was younger, sometimes with friends, too. Pansy always loved it; she and I would sit and talk for hours.”

Harry takes a sip from his mug. The hot beverage tastes sweet and delicious.

“It’s been a while since I was last here, though,” Draco continues, something sad in his voice. “Once the Dark Lord had claimed our home as his own, and moved in with some of his followers, I stopped flying around the Grounds altogether. I didn’t want any of them to find out about my little haven and taint it. What they were doing inside our Manor was horrific enough.”

“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like,” Harry says. “Having _Him_ under your roof for so long.”

“It was sheer hell.” Draco suppresses a shudder. “I suppose it wasn’t unexpected that, at some point, it was our home he’d choose as his residence and headquarters, and that he’d invade it as though he had some kind of birth right to do so. But still, none of us was prepared for the terror he’d bring. Even Father was in way over his head.”

It’s clear Draco wants to talk some more—needs to—so Harry just nods and lets him.

“You know, Harry, I had a pretty wonderful childhood: happy and carefree, with devoted parents who spoiled me rotten and who loved one another dearly. The first years of my life were beautiful, perfect… But then when those rumours of the Dark Lord’s return proved to be true, everything changed, almost overnight.”

Draco drinks some hot chocolate and continues, “When I arrived home after my first year at Hogwarts, the atmosphere was oddly strained, and Father almost seemed like a different person. He’d always been quite conservative in his world views – all that stuff about some Wizarding bloodlines being superior to others, for one – but it was evident that he’d now taken those opinions to a whole new level. And what’s more, he was suddenly quite stern with me. He had all these expectations of me that I’d never known about before, and that I apparently would never be able to live up to anyway, no matter how hard I tried. Suddenly, for reasons I didn’t know about and much less understood, I’d changed from the perfect son who could do no wrong into the unworthy offspring who did nothing right.”

“Really?” Harry frowns. “I always had the impression he’d give you anything you asked for.”

“Oh, he did,” Draco agrees, “at least when it came to money, possessions, and displays of power and superiority, but all the while, there was this unspoken agreement that I had to uphold certain beliefs and traditions, mingle with the right crowd, impress the right people, and above all, always make my father proud, by any means necessary.” Draco sighs. “Incidentally, Harry, I’m sorry about his attitude at breakfast. I suppose he was in one of his moods, which is no excuse, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says and takes Draco’s hand. “It’s like you told me once: you have no control over him or his actions.”

“And I can’t stop the vitriol that spills from his mouth, either. I know, but still…”

“Really, Draco,” Harry reassures him. “It’s nothing. He's just a pompous berk. Far worse things were said and done at the Dursleys’ over Christmas, believe me.” 

“Oh?”

Harry lets out a wry, humourless laugh. “Are you quite sure you want to know this?”

“Yes,” Draco replies without hesitation.

“Okay, then. For starters, even at only eleven years old, I had to cook them Christmas dinner – including a bloody turkey with all the trimmings – and after all of my hard work, they sat stuffing their faces in the living room, while I was stuck in my cupboard and had to wait until they were done and brought me their leftovers – cold leftovers – to eat.” 

Draco shakes his head. “That’s appalling.”

“It was even more fun when they had neighbours or one of Uncle Vernon’s relatives over. Because there had been an incident with my Aunt Marge once, I got locked in the attic when there were guests. They didn’t want my freaky behaviour to cause embarrassment, you see.” 

“Freaky behaviour? Oh, you mean your magic?”

Harry nods. “Accidental magic. It happened a few times when I was with them.”

“I’m not surprised if that’s how they treated you.” Draco squeezes Harry’s hand that’s still clasped in his own. “Maybe they should count their lucky stars that you didn’t unwittingly obliterate them at some point…”

The two young men are quiet for a while, both wrapped up in their own thoughts until Draco asks, “Would you like to join the Weasley family on Boxing Day?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I think so. I mean, I more or less pushed them away last summer, and there were good reasons for that – well, you know the reasons, Draco – but quite a bit has happened since then and the situation now is totally different.” He takes a deep breath. “The grief for Fred is no longer as raw, my break-up with Ginny… Well, I’ve got you now and she’s got Neville and it’s all water under the bridge, and… I know I’m hurting Molly by continuing to avoid them; well, I’m upsetting all of them, I suppose, but mostly her. She’s been nothing but kind to me ever since we met, almost like a second mum… And I really should make amends.” 

“No better time than Christmas for that sort of thing,” Draco replies simply.

Harry nods. 

“All right. In that case, I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Harry exclaims.

Draco nods. “Yes, really. They’re important to you, and the thing is, Harry, I want us to share the rest of our lives, all of our lives, not just the bits that are convenient, so I suppose that means I learn how to deal with the Weasleys. It couldn’t have been easy for them to invite me in the first place, seeing who I am, what I did and what I must represent to them, even now. So if you’re going, so am I.”

Harry smiles. He’s grateful, relieved and deeply touched  “I feel the same way, you know,” he says softly. “About sharing our lives. So I guess I’ll have to learn to tolerate your father as well.”

Draco nods.

“Funny,” Harry continues. “The only thing I’m certain of when it comes to my future is this — _us_. On the career front, I still haven’t the faintest clue.”

“You’ll figure something out eventually,” Draco says. “There’s no rush; it isn’t as though either of us will be destitute and in urgent need of a job tomorrow.”

“You know,” Harry says softly. “Whatever I end up doing, all I really want, all I’ve ever wanted, is a happy, quiet life.”

Draco smiles. “Me too.”

They finish their hot chocolate in comfortable silence.


	20. Chapter 20

“Of course.” Draco sighs resignedly. “The blasted thing has to hide itself all the way on the top shelf.”

He shakes his head and walks to the other side of the library to fetch the wheeled ladder.

“Can’t you just _Accio_ it instead, though?” Harry asks from where he’s sitting on the chaise longue. He’s watching Teddy, who excitedly crawls around in circles in front of him.

“In theory I could, yes, but if there are enchantments on that book, to protect it or to gauge the intentions of the person wishing to peruse it, unnecessarily subjecting it to more magic might cause damage and if we’re terribly unlucky, possibly even destroy what is a rare and expensive work. It might even be the only one of its kind left in Britain.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, feeling a bit silly and embarrassed by his own ignorance.

“So… ladder it is. Would you make sure Teddy keeps at a safe distance?”

Those words have barely been spoken or, fascinated by the noise the ladder’s wheels make, Teddy changes direction and heads straight for Draco.

“No!” Harry yells. “Wait! Here boy!”

Draco pauses for a moment and rolls his eyes. “Really, Potter? Good grief! That’s your godson you’re talking to, not a damned dog!” He chuckles and proceeds to address Teddy himself: “Why don’t you hurry back to Harry, little man? We don’t want any accidents now, do we?”

Harry strongly doubts Teddy understands even a word of that—he’s just a baby, after all—but the boy swiftly returns to him anyway.

With a smug expression, Draco climbs the ladder. “Yes, this is the book I promised Granger,” he says, carefully retrieving a thick, heavy tome. “I suppose I can give it to her when we’re at The Burrow.”

Harry frowns. “You’ll have to be discreet about that, though. I can’t imagine she’s told many people of her plan; just us two and Ron, I reckon.”

“Hm.” Now standing in front of Harry, Draco examines the book closely. Brandishing his wand, he mutters a spell Harry doesn’t quite catch.

“Ah,” he remarks a moment later. “Surprisingly enough, I can detect no enchantments on this—not a single one—so I can just _Shrink_ it and put it in my pocket when we go and visit the Weasleys.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be best. Don’t let too many people see it,” Harry says and adds with a small smile, “You know, I’m really glad you and Hermione are friends now.”

Draco shakes his head. “We’re nowhere near that and you know it, Harry.”

“Of course.” Harry gets up from the sofa and with a mischievous grin, advances on Draco. “You’re only trying to make amends. This is your way of apologising. You don’t like her one bit otherwise. It’s this other bloke, who just happens to look and sound exactly like you, who rabbits on and on about books, schoolwork and NEWTs whenever he gets within a few feet of her.”

Draco laughs softly. “All right, fair enough. She possesses an interesting mind and is pleasant enough to have discussions with, but...” His voice is serious, almost solemn, again, as he continues, “After everything that’s happened, everything I said and did to her, and to Weasley, too, I strongly doubt an actual friendship between us is within the realm of possibilities.”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by an Elf bursting into the room.

“Sorry to disturb.” The creature’s tone is rattled. “Man here from Ministry. Downstairs. Master Draco, wants to speak with you.”

Draco’s stomach drops as fear grips at his heart _—Bugger, so what do they want with him_ _this time_ _;_ _shouldn’t_ _thi_ _s_ _nonsense_ _be a thing of the past by now?_

“Do you need me to accompany you?” Harry asks, sensing his boyfriend’s anxiety and feeling quite concerned himself.

“No, stay here with Teddy.” Draco sounds considerably more calm and confident than he is. “My family is no longer under investigation or, as far as I know, under suspicion of anything, so I assume nothing horrid will happen.”

With a neutral expression and his head held high, despite his inner turmoil, Draco descends the Manor’s majestic staircase.

He finds Bernard Alderton in the middle of the hallway, admiring the paintings and waiting for him.

“Hello Draco,” the man says. He holds out his hand, which Draco shakes briefly. “No need to look so troubled,” he continues with a smile. “I’m the bearer of good tidings.”

“Very well, let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Draco replies and leads him to a small sitting room.

 

 

****

 

Harry is sitting cross-legged in a secluded spot on the landing, safely out of sight, waiting for Draco and his visitor to reemerge. He doesn’t know where they went, but they’re bound to head for the front door at some point.

Truth be told, Harry doesn’t like this whole situation one bit, and whatever’s being discussed is taking entirely too long too, in his opinion.

About thirty minutes ago, it was time for Teddy’s nap, so Brody took the boy back to the nursery, and even before that, Harry felt like he’d been waiting an eternity.

It must be an hour now; at least.

One of the downstairs doors opens. Harry leaps up, careful to remain unnoticed.

“I’m flattered, Bernard. Truly, I am,” Draco says, his voice eerily loud in the otherwise silent space, “but I’m afraid I’m spoken for.”

The chuckle he gets in response sounds harsh and bitter. “So I take it the rumours are true, then?”

“What rumours might those be?” Draco retorts a little too casually.

“The ones about you and Harry Potter.”

“Yes.”

Harry sees the man give Draco a vicious sneer. “In that case, very well played. Now you’re involved with Boy Wonder, I imagine no one would dare investigate you again. Not even the Minister himself would risk it, I expect, not it if he values his career and reputation.”

“That’s not why I...” Draco begins to protest, but Alderton isn’t listening.

“Whatever you say, Draco,” the man snaps. “Goodbye. I’ll see myself out.”

He turns on his heel and strides out of the Manor. With conviction, he slams the door shut behind him.

Clenching his fingers into fists, Draco curses under his breath.

“Draco?” Harry bolts down the stairs. “Is everything all right?”

Draco takes a deep, steadying breath. “Yes,” he mutters, but the look in his eyes—full of guilt, shame and regret—gives him away.

Although Harry has never been the most observant of people—more than once, he’s failed to notice what was happening right in front of his nose—by now he knows Draco’s mannerisms well enough to be able to put two and two together.

“That was him, wasn’t it?” he enquires bluntly.

 Draco blinks. “How do you mean? Who?”

“That man who was just here; he’s the bloke you slept with right after the war, isn’t he?”

Draco swallows thickly and nods. He’s at a complete loss as to what to say or even where to look. He’s too ashamed to meet Harry’s gaze.

Why does his past keep coming back to vex him, he wonders? It’s not like he invited Alderton to the Manor and frankly, there wasn’t even any need for the man to drop in personally. The business he came for could have been easily conducted through Owl Post instead _. Damn it._

“Seems like he’s still interested in you,” Harry continues in a carefully neutral tone, “or he was before he stormed off in a huff.”

Draco sighs. “Apparently, although I never gave him reason to believe I felt the same. Not after the night we spent together and not when he showed up out of the blue at Hogwarts a few months back.”

“He showed up at...” Harry parrots, and then the Knut drops. “Oh. When that Ministry official came to see you, that was him as well?”

“Yes,” Draco says simply.

Harry frowns. He remembers holding Draco in his arms that day, a crying, shaking wreck. “No wonder you were so upset when I came looking for you.”

Draco sighs. “The fact that it was Alderton wasn’t the only reason I was so upset, but seeing him again didn’t help matters; it added a generous helping of shame and self-loathing to an already impressive pile of rubbish.”

Harry nods.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you the whole story back then. Perhaps I should have, but we’d just become friends and I, well, I wasn’t keen on you finding out about me… about my being gay, I mean. Some Wizards and Witches who grew up in the Muggle world seem to have a real problem accepting homosexuality. I didn’t think you’d be among those, but I was still scared to risk it. Being close to you meant so much to me. I didn’t want to lose you by creating awkwardness between us.”

“I understand,” Harry replies, “and besides, like you said, we’d just become friends then, it was none of my business, really, if you were attracted to girls or boys. Though if you had told me, I suppose I would have kissed you sooner. It wasn’t easy for me, either, you know.” He grins at the memory; even though it’s only been a few months, it already seems like a lifetime ago now.

“What wasn’t?”

“Being madly in love with you but at the same time terrified to do anything about it because I didn’t want you thinking I was a freak.” He hesitates a beat, then adds, “My uncle Vernon uses some really ugly, nasty words to describe people like us.”

“Does he indeed?” Draco smirks. “He’s most welcome to come and say them to my face. Pathetic primate.”

Harry chuckles, then turns serious again. “You don’t suppose Alderton will try to cause trouble, do you? If he’s in love with you…”

Draco smiles wryly. “He’s enamoured with my family’s wealth, if anything. He doesn’t think very highly of me, as far as I can tell. In fact, as you may have overheard, he believes I’m only involved with you to ensure my future safety, to make certain the Ministry leaves me be. Typical reaction, I suppose, though it’s a shame how everyone seems to question the sincerity of my feelings for you.”

Harry shrugs. “Who cares? They’ll all change their minds eventually, probably twenty years from now, when we’re still together, married and disgustingly happy.”

Draco grins, relieved Alderton’s unexpected appearance hasn’t caused any strife. “Planning on marrying me, are you?”

“Naturally,” Harry deadpans. “How else am I going to get my hands on your father’s money?”

At that, they both burst out laughing.

“Come here, you gold-digging git.” Draco pulls Harry into his arms and kisses him.

“Seriously, though,” Harry says when they break apart again. “Was that the reason he came here? To try to seduce you?”

“No, he did have some news as well. Come on.” Draco grabs Harry’s hand. “Let’s go up to my room, I’ll tell you all about it there.”

 

 

****

 

“Did you know she’d made those arrangements?” Harry asks. He’s lying on the sofa in Draco’s room, with his head on a fluffy pillow in Draco’s lap.

“No, and I assumed all of Bella’s personal funds had been frozen and confiscated by the authorities when she was first sent to Azkaban. I had no idea her second Gringotts’ vault even existed, but apparently it only contains ancestral money, which according to some ancient Wizarding law must be passed on to the rightful heir, regardless of the circumstances.”

“And this heir would be you.”

Draco frowns as he once again wonders about his aunt’s decision to leave her fortune to him. “Yes, for some odd, inexplicable reason. She never seemed particularly fond of me, you know. Rather the contrary. She once told my father I was weak and useless, another rotten branch on her family tree. Aunt Andromeda and your godfather being the other two, in case you were wondering.”

Harry shrugs dismissively. “The woman was two treacle tarts short of a cake shop, Draco. If you ask me, you're looking for logic and common sense where there is neither.”

Draco smiles. “Perhaps.”

“So,” Harry asks, “what are you going to do now?”

“I’ve been giving that a lot of thought.” Draco takes Harry’s hand. “I was obligated to accept ownership of that vault — there’s no getting around the Blood Magic involved — but I really don’t want that evil wench’s money and I certainly have no need for it either, so I’ve been considering…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I should sign the lot over to Pansy.”

“Pansy? Wouldn’t that go against the same law that forced you to accept your inheritance? She’s not related to you, is she?”

”No, she isn’t, and the law only applies when the vault's present owner is deceased. Nothing prevents me from giving everything away.” Draco smiles. “You see, the thing about Pansy, her current situation, and it’s been bothering me for a while, actually…”

“Go on.”

“She dwells mainly in the Muggle world now and is dependent on her aunt. The woman is a Squib, making her living through Muggle businesses, earning Muggle money… If something were to happen to her, where would that leave Pansy and Vincent Junior? Stuck in the Muggle world? Struggling to get back to the Wizarding World, jumping through countless hoops to get all that Muggle currency converted to ours, with possibly a lot of hassle from the Ministry at every turn?”

“Not a clue,” Harry replies.

“Me neither,” Draco says. “But in the eventuality of something happening to Morag, I want my best friend and my godson to be all right. Aunt Bella’s money can take care of that." 

Harry nods. “It would be a kind of poetic justice, too, seeing how the bitch threatened Vincent’s life.”

“Quite. So I’ll discuss the matter with Mother later, and if she has no objections, I’ll Owl Pansy about my intentions; she can regard it as a Christmas present.”

”Impressive present.” Harry smiles. “That sounds like a good plan, actually.”

After this, they remain silent for a while, both occupied with their own thoughts.

Harry closes his eyes, enjoying the soothing feeling of Draco’s fingers tenderly stroking his hair. He stifles a yawn, thinking he could easily doze off like this.

"Sleepy?" Draco murmurs.

“Mmm.”

“You should take a nap, then.”

“Here and now?”

“Why not? We have nowhere else to be.”

“And what will you do in the meantime, while I’m trapping you on this couch?”

“Rest.” Draco smiles. “And maybe read a little. Most of the books in this room I can _Accio_ safely, you realise.”

“All right, then,” Harry says. He shifts into an even more comfortable position and in no time at all, he’s sound asleep.

Draco sighs softly, looking down at his snoozing boyfriend. He’s still enormously displeased with Alderton’s earlier appearance at the Manor and hopes this was indeed the man’s last. Draco deeply regrets his drunken indiscretion and he supposes he can count himself lucky that Harry is too generous and fair to hold it against him. A lesser man might.

Draco closes his eyes. His thoughts drift to Pansy, little Vincent and Bellatrix.

A mortifying chill runs down his spine as he recalls certain interactions with his late aunt, her sneers, accusations, thinly veiled threats…

Draco grits his teeth and silently tells himself to knock it off. The wretched woman’s dead. She can’t hurt him anymore. She can’t hurt anyone ever again.

A knock at the door stops his mind from wandering further to places it really oughtn’t go.

“Yes?”

The door opens and Narcissa steps into the room. She smiles at the sight of her son and Harry Potter on the sofa together, with the Potter boy blinking and looking around in confusion as he abruptly awakens from his nap.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she asks pleasantly.

“No, not at all,” Draco says, while Harry sits up, still a bit disoriented.

“Andromeda and myself, with some help from the Elves, have just put up the Christmas tree. In line with our family tradition, perhaps, Draco, you’d like to come and take care of the star on top?”

“Yes.” Draco’s smile is wide and enthusiastic. “Of course.”

He gets up from the sofa, as does Harry, and they follow Narcissa downstairs.

They enter the largest of the dining rooms. The sight that greets Harry there has him gasping in awe. The beautifully decorated room looks straight out of a palace, and at the back of it, a huge Christmas tree stands. In size and splendour, it almost rivals the one in Hogwarts' Great Hall.

“Wow, Mother,” Draco remarks. “You’ve really outdone yourself this year. Our tree is amazing!”

Harry nods. “Yeah, it’s brilliant!”

“Thank you,” she replies. “This is our first proper Christmas in a long time, one where we have actual cause for celebration, so I was determined to make it extra special... So, Draco, would you do the honours?”

“Certainly,” he replies. He grabs his wand, aims it at the top of the tree and whispers an incantation.

A bright, white star appears, shining and sparkling in the light of the chandelier as though it’s made of pure diamonds. _Who knows,_ Harry thinks, _perhaps it is_.

“There we are,” Draco says, looking pleased with himself. “All done.”

In Andromeda's arms, Teddy raises his hands in the air and lets out an excited squeal.

Draco turns to Harry. “What do you think?”

“It’s magnificent,” Harry replies. He lets his gaze wander from the tree to the excited baby to Andromeda and Narcissa’s matching smiles and finally to Draco, who has a light blush on his cheeks, and who looks proud and happy, almost like his old self again.

Harry smiles. They have a long way to go yet, in terms of healing, but he can’t help feeling that every day brings them a little step closer to normal. 


	21. Chapter 21

“Who dares bring this filthy rag into our home? The sheer audacity of it!”

At the sound of Lucius Malfoy’s furious voice, the pleasant atmosphere in the dining room shatters like fragile glass.

Narcissa beams her husband a pacifying smile. “I assume Britty found that paper on the lawn and picked it up. She’s new here, dear. I expect she was only trying to be helpful. I’ll have a word with her later, explain how we don’t wish to receive _The Daily Prophet_ and any copies that do show up should be tossed in the bin right away, never placed on the breakfast table for us to see.”

“Yes, kindly do that,” Lucius says, frowning as his gaze lingers on the front page. “Well, well, well,” he remarks sarcastically. “Congratulations, son, it would appear you and your... _beloved_ made the headlines today.”

Shaking his head, he glares at the newspaper in his hands as if doing so might obliterate it from existence, and reads aloud:

**_Exclusive: Revealed! Wizarding World’s Saviour’s Scandalous Secret Romance with Notorious Death Eater Shocker!_ **

_It’s a well-known fact: after the war, everyone expected eighteen-year-old Harry Potter, a.k.a. The Boy Who Lived Twice, to eventually settle down with his childhood sweetheart, the ravishing redhead Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Weasley (17)._

_So imagine our shock and disbelief when yesterday afternoon, in the privacy of our London office, an anonymous source close to Mr Potter revealed that not only did the popular dream couple part ways many moons ago and is Miss Weasley currently dating eighteen-year-old Neville Longbottom, the young man history will forever remember as the brave Gryffindor who slaughtered You-Know-Who’s snake, it also turns out that Mr Potter is caught up in a new rambunctious romance of his own._

_We already knew Mr Potter had become quite chummy with bad boy Draco Malfoy (18), son of once convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy (44). The two young men are often spotted in each other’s company, but apparently what they share goes far beyond a platonic friendship._

_In fact, they are reported to be spending Christmas Hols together, using the ancestral Malfoy Manor, one of Wizarding Britain’s largest and most luxurious homes, as their own personal love nest._

_Our anonymous source confided in us that Mr Potter is completely smitten, head over heels for Mr Malfoy. The heroic teen has even claimed he has never been this happy before in his entire life._

_Ginevra Weasley was unavailable for comment when we tried to contact her._

_Draco Malfoy’s former beau, however, was more than willing to share a word or two._

_The jilted lover, who prefers not to have his name printed in our paper for fear of retaliation, suspects Mr Potter is only setting himself up for bitter heartbreak. The man even went so far as to describe Draco Malfoy as “an opportunistic love rat” who “would bonk anyone” to further his own personal agenda or in this case, to gain immunity from any future Ministry investigations._

_Which, of course, begs the question: is what we’re faced with here an unlikely case of true love, two opposites inexplicably drawn to one another, or is it in fact a nefarious ploy by the notorious Malfoy family, whose members are certainly no strangers to all flavours of dastardly deeds?_

_Only time will tell, but if I were Mr Potter, I’d watch my back and be extremely careful before I gave my whole heart._

 

Draco shakes his head sadly.

Harry sighs.

Narcissa rises from her chair to take a closer look at the article.

“At least the accompanying photograph is lovely,” she remarks over her husband’s shoulder. “The boys look so happy. Don’t they look happy, Lucius?”

“Ecstatic,” comes the dry response.

“I assume that picture was taken in Hogsmeade,” she continues, unfazed.

Draco sighs. “Probably when we went shopping there a few weeks ago. I never noticed any members of the press lurking about, though.”

“Me neither,” Harry offers.

“Mmm,” Narcissa ponders. “One can’t but wonder why they decided to run this article now. Your relationship is hardly a secret anymore.”

“Personally, I’m more curious about this ‘jilted lover’ they speak of,” Lucius interjects with a smirk. “I assume he’s as fictional as Potter’s close friend they supposedly interviewed, or did you truly break some poor boy’s heart, Draco?”

“Alderton’s behind all this, I reckon,” Harry blurts out without thinking.

Draco flinches. His parents regard him strangely, as does his aunt Andromeda who has remained silent so far.

“Alderton? You mean _Auror Alderton_?” Lucius frowns. “He was the one who came by yesterday to discuss those inheritance matters, correct?”

Horrified as well as deeply ashamed, Draco only manages a nod.

“But why would he, of all people, do something like this? What could he possibly hope to gain by it?”

Draco drops his gaze into his plate. The sight of the juicy red strawberries in front of him isn’t nearly as appealing as it was a few moments ago.

Draco’s change in demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed by his father. “Sweet Salazar,” Lucius exclaims. “Don’t tell me you took this man to your bed, Draco? He’s a Ministry official, for Merlin’s sake! Good heavens, son, what were you thinking?”

Trying to deny the obvious would be pointless, so Draco just mumbles, “Sorry, Father. It was a mistake and it only happened once.” As he utters those words, he wishes he knew a spell that would make the ground open up and swallow him whole.

Lucius shakes his head. “That’s not how you were raised, Draco. Of all the daft, irresponsible things you could have done…”

“Oh hush, dear,” Narcissa cuts in. “Don’t badger the poor boy. We lived in dark, terrifying times back then; they clouded everyone’s judgement. What’s done is done, and besides, I’m sure that this, too, will blow over soon enough. Come tomorrow, these vultures will have already found someone else to gossip about.”

“Cissa, that rag has the gall to imply that our son is some sort of...” Lucius growls. “How dare they!”

“Clearly this Alderton fellow is extremely jealous, darling,” Narcissa says simply, “and vying for Draco’s attention. Possibly he hopes those nasty rumours he spreads will cause Draco and Harry to fight and break up.”

“That will never happen. Not a chance in hell,” Harry states firmly, ignoring the amused, almost mocking look Lucius shoots his way. He reaches across the table and places his right hand atop Draco’s left.

Draco gives him a watery smile and picks a strawberry off his plate as Narcissa swiftly changes the subject.

The _Daily Prophet_ article isn’t mentioned again that morning.

 

 

****

 

 

“You look a little out of sorts. You’re not nervous, are you?” Draco asks Harry.

They’re sitting on a solid oak bench in the marble entrance hall of Gringotts Bank, waiting for Pansy to arrive.

“A bit,” he admits with a small smile. “She’s your best friend and she never liked me much. Or at all, really.”

Harry sighs and continues, “I know I decided to tag along today, but maybe that was a bad idea. I mean, she’s only expecting to meet you and the business she’s about to conduct here is pretty private, so… I don’t want to impose where I’m not wanted.”

Draco shakes his head. “Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

Harry still isn’t convinced. “I really hope she won’t mind,” he rambles on, “and that my being here isn’t going to cause some massive row between the two of you; not when you’ve only just reconciled and everything.”

Draco takes Harry’s hand and kisses him on the cheek. “Stop worrying. No one’s going to fight here today.”

In that very moment, the front door opens wide. Pansy sweeps in, wearing black boots and a thick green winter coat with a woollen hat and gloves to match.  

Draco and Harry move to stand.

“Hello, Pans,” Draco says, smiling widely as he strides up to meet her and pulls her into a tight hug. “Where’s little Vincent?”

“His nanny is watching him,” she replies, releasing her best friend and taking a small step back. “We didn’t want him to get too excited today. We leave for New York tomorrow, you see. The journey’s bound to be quite an adventure for him, so he definitely has to get his afternoon nap today.” She smiles slightly as she takes off her coat. “He’s just like his dad was in that respect; lack of sleep makes him awfully grumpy.”

“New York?” Draco frowns. “Why on earth are you going to America? And please don’t tell me you’ll be travelling in one of those flying metal contraptions Muggles use? You wouldn’t want to risk that, surely? Especially not when you have a baby with you as well.”

Pansy chuckles. “They’re called aeroplanes, Draco, and they’re perfectly safe. We have first class seats, too, so Vinnie can expect to be thoroughly fussed over by the flight personnel. Besides...” she smiles wryly. “I’ll be happy to be spending Christmas Eve travelling, high in the sky. Trying to get into a festive mood without my parents around… I tried my utmost, I really did, but I haven’t been able to manage it.”

“Oh,” Draco says. Once again he realises how lucky he is that both his parents made it through the war unscathed and free.

“Anyway,” Pansy continues, sounding cheerful again, “I’ve always wanted to visit the Big Apple and since Aunt Morag’s been invited to this lavish New Eve Year’s Party by the head of some major software company she’s currently in negotiations with, this seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I think it’ll do me the world of good to get away, too, after everything that’s happened.”

“Right,” Draco mutters. “I see.” He remains sceptical, but he knows Pansy well enough by now to accept that trying to change her mind would be exhausting and ultimately pointless.

“But,” she speaks again, “before bombarding me with more questions, at least let me say hello to your boyfriend first.” She lowers her voice and adds in a conspiratorial tone, “He looks a little put out at being ignored, don’t you think? Is that a pout I see there?”

Draco rolls his eyes as Pansy approaches Harry. “Hello Potter,” she says with a smile that’s somewhere between devious and amused. “I didn’t know you’d show up here today, but then you’ve always had a knack for popping up in the strangest places. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Um, yeah. Hello,” he mumbles awkwardly, shaking her hand. A part of him wants to point out that the last time they were in each other’s proximity, she shouted out his name and location to Voldemort, but he holds his tongue. The last thing he wants is to start arguing with the girl and besides, he realises she had her reasons for acting in the way she did. Her unborn child’s life had been threatened; what other choice did she have but to do as she was told?

Draco walks over to ring the huge copper bell on the wall. Like the oak bench, it’s a new addition to the bank’s interior and a rather impressive one.

Within seconds, a goblin appears, seemingly out of nowhere. He introduces himself as Brodrick The Fifth and gets straight to the point:

“We’ve received your Owl, Mr Malfoy, about Mrs Lestrange’s vault, and before we proceed, I must state that in accordance with Wizarding Law as well as our bank’s rules and regulations, your inheritance encompasses only her personal fortune. You have no legal claim to the Lestrange Family Vault, or rather, the little that remains of it. As you may know, an unfortunate incident of breaking and entering during the war left it largely destroyed.”

Harry swallows hard. If Brodrick, being a recent addition to the bank’s staff, knows of Harry’s involvement in the break-in he just mentioned, he doesn’t show it.

The expression on Draco’s face stays neutral, too. He nods in agreement.

“Is this the young lady to whom the ownership will be transferred?” Brodrick continues.

“Yes, that’s me,” Pansy replies and shakes the goblin’s hand.

“Very well, Miss Parkinson. If Mr Malfoy and yourself would care to follow me to our transportation… Since you are not blood relatives, given the magic involved, the change in ownership will need to happen in the vault itself.”

She nods.

“Will Mr Harry Potter also be accompanying us?” Brodrick goes on to ask.

“Yes,” Draco replies. “Assuming his presence doesn’t violate any rules.”

“As we speak, the vault still belongs to you, Mr Malfoy. You decide who enters it and who keeps out, so if Miss Parkinson has no objections...?”

Pansy shrugs. “None at all.”

“Very well, then.”

Harry, Draco, Pansy and Brodrick climb into the magic cart.

A fast, bumpy ride takes them down countless narrow, musty, barely lit passages.

Harry recalls the first time he visited Gringotts, how excited he was, and a little scared, too. The bank hasn’t changed much since, not even after all the damage sustained during the war, but then he supposes these kinds of places rarely do.

Of course, the majority of the staff did change.

Harry lost count of how many goblins were killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but once the war was won, those that remained cleared the debris, started over and restored the building to its former glory.

“I was told a Hippogriff guarded Aunt Bella’s money originally,” Draco says. “There were a lot of hexes in place, too, but two of the Ministry’s best Curse Breakers took care of those when they opened up the vault for investigation.”

Harry nods. He can imagine the sort of curses Draco refers to only too well. "What happened to the Hippogriff?” he asks.

“That oversized chicken was released in some remote Scottish mountain area,” Draco replies dryly. “I imagine it’s quite happy there and it won’t be mauling me either, which means everybody wins.”

Harry grins. “Good. It would’ve been awfully cruel to leave it down there in captivity.”

Before Draco can reply, the cart comes to an abrupt halt.

“Here we are,” Brodrick announces. 

Harry gets up, feeling dizzy. His ears hurt, too. At least the journey back up won’t be so bad, he silently reassures himself.  

“Well, that was fun,” Pansy remarks, grinning. “Reminds me of one of the roller coaster rides in Blackpool.”

“Roller coaster rides,” Draco parrots. “Good grief, you really have been spending far too much time in the Muggle world, haven’t you?”

Pansy just shrugs. “Aunt Morag took me to this amusement park a few weeks ago. We had a great time. Muggles have invented some pretty nifty things, actually.”

Draco smirks. “I’ll take your word for that.”

Brodrick mutters an incantation and the vault entrance opens. 

They all step inside.

The sight that greets them is spectacular: gold coins as far as the eye can see, piles and piles of them stacked all the way up to the high ceiling like sun soaked mountains. 

Harry gasps. Draco grins smugly. Pansy goes deathly pale and looks as though she might faint.

“D-Draco,” she stammers as soon as she finds her voice again. “This is too much! I couldn’t possibly...”

Draco shakes his head. “No, it isn’t and yes, you can. Everything that’s here will ensure you and Vinnie are taken care of later, whatever the future might have in store.”

“All right.” Pansy takes a deep breath. “I think you’re completely out of your mind, but all right. I have my son to consider. I’d be an idiot to refuse all this.”

Harry grins. “I’d say so.”

“Shall we?” Brodrick offers.

Harry takes a step backwards as the transfer ritual commences and he averts his eyes when the goblin produces a small silver dagger to draw some of Draco’s and then a few drops of Pansy’s blood.

“There we go,” Brodrick says at last. “Congratulations, Miss Parkinson. Let me be the first to welcome you as a new, valued client at our bank.” With that, he gives a small bow.

“Thank you very much,” she replies.

“You’re a rich woman, Pans,” Draco declares with a grin.

“Wow. Seems as though I am. Yes.” Pansy, still not quite believing what just happened, pulls her best friend into a crushing hug. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

She clings to Draco for a long moment, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. Once she has regained her composure, she pulls away again and says, “Come on. Let’s get out of here before I turn into a weepy, sentimental Hufflepuff or something equally embarrassing. Now I have all this money, how about I treat you both to some coffee and cake?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Draco replies.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I'm in.”

They walk back to the cart.

Brodrick, who discreetly kept his distance after the formalities were taken care of, is already on board, waiting to take them back.

 

 

****

 

An hour later, the three of them are sitting in a cosy café, chatting over coffee and apple pie.

“I still can’t believe Bellatrix had all that dough stashed away,” Pansy says conversationally.

Draco smiles. “She kept the existence of that vault a big secret. Even Mother had no idea, although she wasn’t exactly surprised when I told her about it, either.” 

“How so?” asks Pansy.

Harry wonders the same thing. All he knows is Narcissa didn’t object to Draco giving away his inheritance. 

Harry never asked Draco for the details of that conversation. He felt doing so wouldn’t be appropriate. The Malfoy finances were none of his business, after all, and furthermore, he couldn’t care less about Bellatrix' money.

He’s definitely intrigued now, however.

“Mother already suspected Bella wouldn’t have had access to the Lestrange fortune for much longer.” 

“What? Why not?” Harry asks before Pansy gets the chance.

“My dearly departed aunt didn’t take her marriage vows terribly seriously, and while divorce may be a rare thing in the Wizarding World, she had such plans regardless.”

Harry frowns. “She was cheating on Rodolphus and about to dump him?”

“Indeed. According to Mother.” 

“And leave him for whom?” Pansy asks.

“Why, her one true love of course!”

Pansy’s eyes grow impossibly wide. “Seriously?”

Harry’s frown deepens. “Er, who are the two of you talking about?”

“What? You don’t know?” Draco puts to him, surprised. 

“Know about what?”

“ _Trixie_ and the Dark Lord were shagging,” Pansy states matter-of-factly. “Not a pleasant thing to think about, particularly when one is eating, but there we are.”

Harry’s glad he just swallowed his mouthful of coffee. “Bloody hell,” he mutters.

“Quite,” Draco says dryly. 

Harry shakes his head. “I suppose everyone knew about this but me. Story of my life, isn’t it?”

Draco grins, but remains silent. 

Pansy beckons the waitress for a refill.

Soon their conversation turns to Hogwarts gossip, Vinnie and Teddy, and everyone’s holiday plans. 

Harry is pleasantly surprised to discover that spending time in Pansy’s company is a lot less awkward than he expected it to be. It’s once again obvious, too, that she means the world to Draco. Their interaction reminds Harry of his own friendship with Hermione, although Hermione would probably never say most of the sarcastic, snarky things that regularly fly out of Pansy’s mouth.

The three of them talk for a good two hours more, until Pansy announces it’s time for her to leave. She has a train to catch and suitcases to pack.

She settles the bill like she promised, and outside the café, throws her arms around her best friend once more.

“Safe travels,” Draco says, “and enjoy your Holidays.”

“You too, sweetheart. I’ll Owl you when we get back.”

Pansy turns to face Harry. “Right then, Potter. I suppose you and I will be seeing a lot more of each other in future.”

“Er, yeah,” he replies sheepishly. 

“Have a good Christmas,” she continues, “and if you value your life, limbs and dangly bits…. don’t break my best friend’s heart, will you?” 

Harry can’t tell whether she’s pulling his leg or not, but he shakes her hand regardless, wishes her a happy Christmas and watches as she walks away from view.

“Right,” Draco says after a few moments. “How about we do a bit of shopping, since we’re in London anyway? I’d like to get another present for Mother and perhaps pick up a little something for Teddy as well.”

“All right,” Harry replies. He isn’t too keen on more shopping—even if he won’t be expected to try on a boat load of new clothes this time—but he does like the idea of a romantic stroll through beautifully decorated streets.

Draco takes Harry’s hand, and together they head off.

Harry’s certain he hears a camera click, multiple times, in the nearby distance. He can’t bring himself to care even one bit.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Harry wakes up to the sound of running water. He lets out a deep sigh and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. A wandless _Tempus_ reveals it’s twenty past eight.

Yawning, Harry climbs out of bed.

Without his glasses, his surroundings are a bit of a blur, but he can still see well enough to make his way to the bathroom without incident.

“Draco?” he calls out.

“Well, good morning,” comes the reply from behind the shower curtain. “Mind the step.”

Harry takes off his boxers and joins his boyfriend in the shower.

Grinning, Draco turns around, takes Harry into his arms and kisses him thoroughly.

“You didn’t wake me,” Harry mutters. He sounds disappointed, and he is. He loves it when they wake up together; they always kiss and cuddle, and usually do a lot more besides.

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.” Draco kisses Harry's lips again. “We don’t have to rush down to breakfast today anyway. Father’s at some early meeting in Arundel of all places, and Mother and Aunt Andromeda have gone to London with Teddy. I expect they’ll bring back half a toy shop.”

Harry grins. “That kid will grow up to be even more spoiled than you were.”

“Perhaps,” Draco murmurs, pulling Harry flush against his body. “And while we’re on the subject of spoiling someone...”

He smiles mischievously as he reaches a hand between them, curls it around Harry’s half hard length and slowly begins to stroke.

Harry moans in appreciation. “Actually,” he replies, his voice now hoarse with desire. “This is the least you could do after deserting me earlier.”

“Poor, lonely Potter, lying there all by himself, pining for me,” Draco declares in an overly dramatic fashion and plants a series of slow, shivery kisses along Harry’s neck and collarbone. “I suppose I could make it up to you by letting you shag me,” he suggests casually. “If you’d like?”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. “Merlin, _yes_. Here?”

“Mmm. Right here and right now.”

Draco’s warm breath ghosts Harry’s cheek before he kisses him again.

Harry responds eagerly, hungrily.

Their lips meet over and over. Their hands caress naked skin, seeking out familiar places aching to be touched.

“I want you,” Harry says, his breathing ragged. “God, I want you.”

“Then take me.”

They share another deep, passionate kiss.

Draco turns around, bends forward slightly and grabs the handrail with both hands to make sure he won’t lose his balance.

Harry wraps an arm around Draco’s waist, utters a lubrication spell, and pushes himself inside, moaning loudly when he sinks into that tight heat. “Guh, Draco, you feel so good.”

Slowly, Harry begins to thrust, adjusting his angle a few times until Draco gasps out, “Yes. Like that. Right _there_.”

Harry thrusts harder. He wraps his free hand around Draco’s cock and kisses the back of Draco’s neck. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Harry... So much... oh... yes... oh _fuck_.”

With warm water cascading down on them, they move together, slowly at first, then faster, losing themselves to the thrilling sensations and to each other. 

Draco shudders as his climax tears through him. Harry is quick to follow, groaning his boyfriend’s name as he comes deep inside of him. 

Harry pulls out and leans his forehead against Draco’s shoulder. He sighs contentedly and, not wanting to let go just yet, he tightens his hold on Draco as they both catch their breath.

When Draco turns around, his eyes are shining and his cheeks flushed. “We should finish our shower,” he says with a smile, pressing a light kiss to Harry’s nose, “and go and eat something.”

“Mmmm,” Harry murmurs. “Can’t we just crawl back into bed? I wouldn’t say no to an extra nap.”

_Or to lying in your arms for a few more hours_ , he thinks, but decides not to say that out loud for fear of sounding like a sappy git.

“Wore yourself out, did you?” Draco grins. “Actually, I was hoping we might take a walk this morning.”

“Oh? Where to?”

“Mother’s greenhouses. I was thinking we could pick out an orchid as a gift for Mrs Weasley. It would be quite rude to arrive at The Burrow empty handed, wouldn’t it?” Draco frowns. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, actually. I wouldn’t want to show up at the Weasleys' with some expensive present; they might take that the wrong way given their own financial situation, but a bottle of fine wine and one of Mother's orchids should be fine and completely inoffensive, don’t you agree?”

Harry nods. “Sure. Molly loves flowers. Where are those greenhouses located, though? I never noticed them when we went flying.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have done. They’re hidden by some complicated spell. They have been for years. Mother didn’t want the Dark Lord or his followers anywhere near her precious plants, you see, so she hid them in plain sight. She feared they would have been destroyed otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles. “That sounds like something those bastards would have done. All beauty had to die.” He shakes his head to push the onslaught of gloomy and angry thoughts from his mind, and reaches for the shampoo bottle.

“Hold on a sec,” Draco says. “Let me help you with that.”

"All right," Harry replies.

Soon Draco’s fingers are in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

Harry sighs happily. This is new and he really hopes it will happen again. The sex between them is always amazing, but he cherishes the many moments of innocent affection he and Draco share, too.

Harry has never been this intimate with anyone before, physically or emotionally, and before this relationship began, he didn’t realise how much he craved being close to someone, how lonely and empty he truly felt, despite all the caring, loyal friends he’d made since starting Hogwarts. 

“You’ve been sleeping better lately, haven’t you?” Draco asks.

“Yes,” Harry murmurs, the tender ministrations relaxing him completely. “I haven’t had as many bad dreams either.”

“Same here,” Draco replies, “and to think I was expecting the opposite, with all the nasty things that happened here during the war.”

Harry smiles. “I’m going to miss this, you know, when we get back to Hogwarts.”

“Miss what?”

“Spending all this time together, just the two of us. It’s brilliant. I don’t want it to end yet. Or ever, really,” he admits with a goofy smile.

Draco rinses the shampoo out of Harry’s hair. “We only have a few more months to go before we finish school,” he says. “It’ll be the end of June before we know it. In the meantime, we can start planning our future, what we want to do, where we’re going to live, that sort of thing.”

Harry nods.

“Which isn’t to say I won’t miss this either,” Draco says with a small smile. “Having you all to myself, constantly.”

"When we get back to school, Hermione’s going to badger me incessantly about my NEWTs, nag me to study and do my homework... She’ll be completely insufferable.”

Draco chuckles. “Well, you can't really hold that against her, Harry. The Saviour of the Wizarding World failing his classes, that just won't do.”

Draco smiles wryly. “Besides, if you don't do well on your NEWTs, no doubt someone will blame it on me. They’ll claim _Bad Boy Draco Malfoy_ seduced and corruptedyou, causing you to throw away your bright future. Next thing we know, the press will catch wind of it, tacky articles will appear all over, and Father is bound to be gravely displeased about the entire mess.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He has a feeling Draco is only half joking. “If I’m to pass, I’m going to need your help with Potions, though.” He sighs deeply. “A lot of it.”

“Then you shall have it.”

"My hero,” Harry replies with a chuckle.

Draco playfully rolls his eyes. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

They kiss once more and step out of the shower.

 

 

****

 

“Are you sure this outfit is suitable?” Harry asks that evening. A deep, critical frown mars his features while he studies himself in the full-length mirror in Draco’s bedroom.

The formal robes he’s wearing are in a deep green colour and partly made of silk. They were purchased especially for the Malfoys’ Christmas Eve celebration and they’re far more posh than anything Harry has ever owned before.

“I mean, isn’t this a bit much? It’s not as though we’re going anywhere fancy tonight.”

“Those robes are ideal,” Draco replies simply. “We may be staying in, but it’s still a very special occasion. Mother has outdone herself this year to make everything absolutely perfect. You’ll see.”

Smiling, he continues, “You know, that shade of green suits you, it really complements your eyes; makes me wonder what you’d look like in a Slytherin uniform.”

“Daft,” Harry mumbles to himself. He glances over at his boyfriend, dressed in all black. Standing there, the young man resembles a nobleman or possibly even a prince, but then Draco has always had a sense of style and elegance about him Harry couldn’t even hope to attain.

The two of them enjoyed a quiet day together. They walked to the greenhouses, which turned out to be located all the way on the south end of the grounds. They selected a stunning purple orchid for Molly, and after checking in on Teddy (who was napping soundly after his London adventure), they spent the remainder of the time in Draco’s room, cuddled up by the fire, talking and drinking hot chocolate.

“Ready?” Draco asks, holding out his hand.

Harry nods.  

They make their way down to the large dining room. When they step inside, Harry lets out a surprised gasp.

He already knew about the spectacular Christmas tree, of course—he’d been there for the finishing touches, after all—but many more decorations have been added to the room since: large and smaller wreaths made of vibrant reds and fragrant greens, dripping candles flickering in a multitude of colours, even six Christmas stockings hung up by the fireplace.

The sight is unexpected, as well as wonderful. This actually feels like a proper Christmas. Harry smiles widely.

“Hello boys,” Narcissa greets them cheerfully. “Please, take a seat.”

They do, Harry throwing a wary glance at the various types of cutlery laid out in front of him. Clearly, this will be a lavish dinner with many courses. He’ll have to take care to mimic Draco so he doesn’t embarrass himself by using the wrong knife, spoon or fork.

“Right, then…” It’s Lucius who speaks next, rising from his chair. Like his son, he’s wearing dark formal robes and Harry’s suddenly glad he accepted Draco’s advice about his own outfit. Anything more casual would have been painfully underdressed. Narcissa and Andromeda, too, look like they have an audience with the Queen. The gowns they’re wearing are nothing short of stunning and no doubt cost a small fortune.

“Before we commence our celebrations,” Lucius continues, “I’d like to say a few words. As we have all experienced, almost behind us lies a turbulent year, one that presented us with plenty of challenges.”

_‘The majority of which you only brought upon yourself, you fuckwit,’_ Harry thinks, but wisely holds his tongue.

“These past few months, however, we have seen many changes for the better and some of those resulted in long-overdue reunions and one entirely”—he clears his throat—“unexpected addition to our immediate circle.”

Harry swallows down a sarcastic retort and forces a polite smile.

“I believe circumstances will only continue to improve from now on, for all of us. So without further ado… Cissa, Andromeda, Draco, Mr Potter… Happy Christmas.”  

He raises his glass and takes a sip.

The people seated at the table follow his example. Harry doesn’t know the first thing about wine, but the red beverage in his glass doesn’t taste at all bad. It’s sweet and slightly reminiscent of strawberries.

Lucius sits down again and as if on cue, two Elves scurry in with the starters.

Harry glances at Draco, who’s sitting across from him.

Draco smiles happily. Harry smiles back.

 

 

****

 

A few hours later, Harry and Draco are the only ones remaining in the festive dining room. They’re snuggled up together on the comfortable chaise longue by the fireplace.

Andromeda has retired to bed, claiming at her age one really does need one’s beauty sleep, while Lucius and Narcissa went to a ballroom Harry didn’t know existed.

Perhaps one day he’ll try to figure out exactly how many rooms Malfoy Manor houses and what they’re all being used for—though, truth be told, if he ever decides to undertake such an endeavour, he’ll be skipping the dungeons, just to be on the safe side.

“All right?” Draco asks, taking a sip from his wine.

“Yes,” Harry replies, resting his head against Draco’s shoulder. “The food was delicious and the atmosphere surprisingly nice. Even your father made an effort to be civil; didn’t try to ruin things for a change.”

Draco smiles. “Father’s in a good mood today.”

“Oh? Any particular reason for that?”

“Yes.” Draco hesitates. “You’ll probably disapprove, but he received an Owl from McGonagall yesterday. His membership on the school board has been fully reinstated.”

Harry sighs. “You’re right, Draco. I don’t like that at all.”

“For the first ten years, he’ll remain entirely anonymous, though,” Draco is quick to add. “As a silent member, his name won’t appear on a single public record and he shan’t be participating in any meetings held on Hogwarts’ grounds either. So those traumatised students you mentioned when this subject last came up, they’ll have nothing to worry about. They won’t even know he’s back.”

_‘I’ll know, though,’_ Harry thinks bitterly, but decides not to share that opinion. Instead he just mumbles, “Okay.”

He doesn’t feel like starting another pointless fight about Lucius, especially after the lovely evening they’ve had. Draco even ate regular food tonight—quite a bit of it, in fact—and seemed to enjoy every bite.

What’s more, Harry supposes this is some sort of compromise as well. After all, no one will be affected directly, much less hurt by Lucius’ reinstatement.

Still, the whole thing is completely unfair as well as infuriating on many levels.

This time Lucius Malfoy truly got off scot-free. The man threw some weight and a boatload of money around, made sure he wormed or bought his way back into some influential people’s good books, and in no time at all, his slate was miraculously wiped clean. 

It makes Harry’s blood boil when he stops to think about it, and yet…

He’s also well aware that if Lucius had gone back to prison, Draco would have been devastated, his home life would have been in tatters all over again, and perhaps he would have never returned to Hogwarts to complete his education, and if such had been the case, Harry…

Harry wouldn’t currently be in this wonderful relationship he can no longer imagine ever living without.  

“Do you want to stay here?” Draco breaks through Harry’s conflicted musings.

“Mmm, I’m pretty comfortable. Aren’t you?”

“Certainly. So, would you like some more wine?”

“I probably shouldn’t. I’ve already had three glasses and I think the last one went straight to my head.”

Draco grins. “You’re such a lightweight.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m just not used to drinking alcohol.”

“You don’t say,” Draco replies dryly.

This earns him a swat on the arm. “Are your parents really dancing right now?” Harry then asks. ”By themselves?”

“I expect so. We could join them if you’d like?”

“Oh no.” Harry shakes his head. “No more dancing in public for me, thanks. I still haven’t recovered from that Ball back in fourth year. It’s entirely possible I never will either.” 

Draco chuckles. “Your dancing was pretty tragic. I remember.”

“You noticed, then.”

Draco smirks. “I always noticed you, Harry.”

“Even when you were waltzing with half of Beauxbatons?”

“Yes, even then.”

“And chatting a couple of those girls up?” Harry continues, an odd accusatory edge to his tone.

Draco frowns. “Excuse me?”

“You spent a lot of time sitting there, talking with a bunch of them. They were hanging on to your every word, and there was a lot of giggling going on as well, so I figured…”

Harry trails off. He isn’t sure why he’s bringing this up now (perhaps the booze is at fault), or why the whole thing bothered him so much at the time. Surely he wasn’t already interested in Draco back in fourth year, that would make absolutely no sense; would it?

“I don’t flirt with girls, Harry. Never have,” Draco replies matter-of-factly. “Come to think of it, I’ve never flirted with anyone, full stop. I wasn’t raised to take romantic involvements lightly.”

“Then what....”

“Was our chatting all about?”

“Yeah.”

Draco pours himself more wine. “Do you really want to know?”   

“Yeah, I do. Go on, spill!”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Oh, very well, if we must. In a nutshell, Harry: we were having quite a bit of fun reviewing some of the other attendees’ wardrobe choices. I may, for instance, have made some amusing observations about that ghastly frilly bin bag Ronald Weasley had mistaken for a dress robe.”

“So you were mocking everyone,” Harry says flatly. “Especially my friends and me.” 

“Mmm, that is correct.”

“In French.”

“ _Naturellement_.”

Harry shakes his head, amused despite himself. “Merlin, Draco, you were such an obnoxious git in those days.”

“And yet, as it turns out, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me even then, Harry.”

“Well, er, yeah, I had to watch you closely to make sure you weren’t up to anything evil.”

Draco laughs. “A likely story.” He places his glass on the small side table next to him, stands up and holds out his hand.

Harry looks up in confusion. “What?”

“May I have this dance? We do have music here, too.”

Harry blinks. “Dance? Are you serious?”

“Of course. I love dancing, which is why I did so much of it at that Ball, and it’s Christmas Eve and I’m over the moon to be spending it with you, so…”

“B-But I can’t,” Harry blurts out. He really doesn’t want to make a fool of himself again.

“What’s the matter?” Draco teases. “Scared, Potter?”

Harry groans. “Not that old hat again, Draco.”

“So that’s a yes, then?”

“Oh, fine.” Harry sighs and gets up, too. “But I must warn you, I’m complete rubbish at this. If I trip you up or break one of your toes, you’ll only have yourself to blame.” 

Draco smiles. “Come on, I’ll lead. Who knows? You might like it.”

Still somewhat reluctantly, Harry takes Draco’s hand and follows him to the other side of the room, where they have more space to move.

Together, they glide over the floor in time with the music. It’s only a simple, slow dance, but Harry’s still surprised to discover his feet move like they’re supposed to and he has no trouble at all keeping up with Draco.

“See, Harry, you can do it.”

Harry smiles. He lays his head against Draco’s shoulder and closes his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them again, he notices thick snowflakes floating down past the window opposite, like twinkling stars tumbling from the night sky.

Here in Draco’s arms, all he can think is that this has to be his best Christmas yet.

  


	23. Chapter 23

The shrill, sharp screech of the opening cemetery gates resounds inappropriately loud through the otherwise silent graveyard. There’s a thick patch of snow on the ground and the complete lack of footprints indicates not a single visitor has been here for several days, at least not until now.

“Do you remember the exact location?” Draco asks softly. “Or do we need to look around for it?”

“I still know the way, I think,” Harry replies. He takes Draco’s gloved hand in his own. “Come on. Follow me.”

They don’t utter another word as they pass snow-covered crypts and graves. Most are overgrown with ivy and some are more than a hundred years old.

They finally halt in front of a large headstone. Relieved he found it easily, Harry lets out a long sigh.

 

_In loving memory of:_

 

_James Potter  27 March 1960 - _31 October 1981_      _

_&_

_Lily Potter 30 January 1960 - _31 October 1981__

 

_“The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”_

 

Harry feels Draco squeeze his hand. He’s grateful for the comforting gesture and still a little surprised Draco suggested they visit here today.

That morning, Harry was standing by one of the bedroom windows, quietly gazing out over the Manor’s grounds.

 

_Draco looks up from his book for a moment and notices the glum expression on his boyfriend’s face. “Hey,” he says. “Is there something wrong?”_

_“No, nothing,” Harry mutters unconvincingly._

_“Yes, there is,” Draco insists. “You look upset. Did something happen?”_

_Harry shakes his head. “It’s fine, really.”_

_Draco puts his reading material down, gets up from where he’s sitting by the fireplace and goes to stand next to Harry. “Come on, tell me. What’s bothering you?” he asks softly, placing a hand on Harry’s arm._

_“It’s just,” Harry begins hesitantly. “It’s the Holidays and last night I spent a marvellous—a surprisingly brilliant, actually—Christmas Eve with you and your family and tomorrow we’re off to The Burrow to have tea with the Weasleys. If all goes well, that’ll be another fun celebration, and don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about that and about having all these people in my life who care so much about me, but….” Harry sighs._

_“You wish your own parents were still around, too?” Draco finishes for him. “All these family gatherings make you miss them more than usual?”_

_Harry nods. “That’s always been one of the most painful things about Christmas.” He emits another deep sigh and continues, “I was still very young when they died, so I don’t remember much about them, obviously—hardly anything at all, really—but… there’s this emptiness that’s always been there, deep inside, gnawing at me, it… it’s hard to explain.”_

_Draco moves to stand behind Harry and puts his arms around him. “I think I understand,” he whispers and after a few moments of contemplative silence, adds, “You know, we could go and visit their grave if you want… If that would make you feel closer to them?”_

_Still in the circle of Draco’s arms, Harry turns around. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”_

_Draco smiles. “Of course I wouldn’t mind. We can leave right now if you’d like.”_

_Harry nods. “Yes,” he replies with a watery smile. “Yes. Thank you.”_

 

So here they are. Harry audibly swallows the thick lump in his throat.

Draco lets go of Harry’s hand and wraps an arm around him instead, pulling him closer.

Overcome with regret, Draco recalls the many occasions where he taunted Harry about being an orphan.

Why did he have to act so cruelly? Was having lost one’s parents in a double murder ever a laughing matter, something mockworthy? All those vicious remarks must have hurt Harry deeply.

If Draco could travel back in time to punch his younger self in the face, he wouldn’t hesitate. For now, he resolves to apologise once they’re back home, something he should have already done long ago.

“I wonder what my mum and dad would make of you,” Harry mutters, “and of us.”

“I imagine they’d be pleased,” Draco replies, trying to lighten the mood. “After all, you landed yourself a rich, smart and handsome boyfriend.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Not to mention, he’s ever so modest, too,” he remarks with a grin and rests his head against Draco’s shoulder.

They remain silent for a while.

Harry tries to imagine what a Potter family Christmas would have been like through the years if his parents had lived. Would he have had siblings growing up? Would Sirius have visited often? What would his life be like today?

Harry will never know the answer to any of those questions, but perhaps he shouldn’t ponder on them too much either. He’ll never stop missing his parents, or Sirius, or all the other loved ones who were taken from him too soon, but after all the sadness, he’s found a glimmer of hope, a chance at true happiness with the young man standing next to him. It’s more than he dared wish for.

“Happy Christmas mum and dad,” Harry whispers with a melancholic smile. “Wherever you are.”

After a long silence, he speaks again. “Draco, would you like to see where I grew up?”

“Call on those unpleasant Muggle relatives of yours, you mean?” Draco replies with a frown. “Are you sure that would be wise?”

“No, I don’t want to go and see my aunt and uncle,” Harry clarifies quickly. “I’d just like to show you their neighbourhood, and then maybe after that… There’s this small tea room in the village centre. They’re open every day, even on Christmas, and they do a delicious strawberry cheesecake, the best I’ve ever tasted, even. It’d be my treat. I still have some Muggle cash on me.”

“Well,” Draco replies, grinning. “How could I possibly say no to that?”

 

 

****

 

 

Harry exhales slowly, relieved he’s getting better at _Apparating_ and no longer as affected by it. The accompanying nausea and dizziness he once experienced have become a thing of the past. He supposes it’s due to practice.

He takes in his new surroundings to discover Privet Drive looks as bleak and boring as ever. Even the smatterings of snow and the colourful Christmas lights and decorations in most front gardens fail to improve matters much.

Draco frowns. “So this is where you grew up? It’s quite... dreary, isn’t it?”

“The people who live here actually consider this a posh and beautiful neighbourhood.” Harry smiles. “Still, it’s a far cry from your family’s Manor, huh?”

Draco nods slowly. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

There are many uncharitable things he could mention about Muggle buildings and the houses all around them are particularly ugly as well as almost identical right down to the grey letterboxes, and what kind of uninspired dullard came up with a design like that anyway?

Draco refrains from commenting, however. He doesn’t wish to offend Harry by insulting his childhood home, even if that home doesn’t hold many happy memories for him.

Instead, he asks, “So which one is your aunt and uncle’s?”

Harry points in the direction of number four.

To Draco, it looks exactly like the others, except… “Your relatives’ house is completely dark on the inside,” he remarks. “They don’t seem to even have a Christmas tree.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe they’re spending the Holidays elsewhere, or my uncle Vernon decided celebrating Christmas just isn’t worth the expense anymore. That would be just like him, the stingy bastard; he probably reckons he can take all his money with him to his grave."

“Perhaps we should have a closer look?” Draco suggests, curious despite himself. “I don’t think anyone’s home.”

With feet like lead, Harry trots after Draco.

Being back here feels stranger than Harry expected and far from pleasant. Painful memories assault him. He isn’t even sure anymore why he wanted to return to this place. Possibly he came looking for closure, but does such a thing even exist when it concerns his aunt and uncle?

After the war, he broke off all contact with them. There was nothing left to be said or done anyhow. He’d made sure The Order had kept them safe from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He’d provided them with a secure location. He’d done his bit and that was enough.

Frankly, he decides, it was probably more than they deserved after the appalling way they'd treated him.

Standing in front of number four, Harry swallows thickly. He half expects his uncle to burst out the front door and start yelling insults. He can almost hear that dreadful voice again.

 

_“You sick, useless, worthless freak! Why are you even here? No one wants you. And how dare you talk back and complain? You ought to be thankful we took you in at all. We could have easily ignored the old man’s instructions and dumped you at some orphanage. Many in our shoes would have!”_

 

“Hey?” Sensing Harry’s distress, Draco breaks the tense silence. “Are you all right?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I-I just didn’t think…”

“Seeing this place again is tougher on you than you imagined it would be?”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, relieved he doesn’t have to explain any further.

“Look,” Draco suggests with a small smile, “Why don’t you show me where that tea room is? I think we’ve seen all there is to see here anyway.” 

Harry is about to reply when someone calls out behind them: “Oi! Harry? Is that you?”

Harry and Draco turn around in unison.

Dudley Dursley is cycling towards them. He has rosy cheeks and a wide, genuine smile on his face.

“So my eyes didn’t deceive me. It is you,” the young man says, getting off his bike. “Wow, it’s been ages!”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. He smiles awkwardly. Right before all hell broke loose, he made amends with Dudley. Everything that transpired between them in the past is just water under the bridge now. Still, Harry hasn’t a clue how to handle this impromptu reunion. He never expected to bump into his cousin today.

In hindsight, that may have been a tad naïve.

Dudley turns to Draco, looking him up and down, trying to figure out whether he’s one of Harry’s Wizard friends he’s encountered before.

“Are you a member of the Weasley family?” he asks, because _Weasley_ is one name he remembers well. Arthur was one of the Wizards he spoke with before he went to that safe house, too. He was a kind and helpful man, and not weird or scary in the slightest, no matter what Vernon claimed.

“Me? A Weasley?” Draco snaps, crossing his arms across his chest in indignation. “Most certainly not!”

“Er, Dudley, this is Draco Malfoy,” Harry says quickly before things spin out of control, “and Draco: this is my cousin Dudley Dursley.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I’m sure,” Draco says with a sneer as he shakes Dudley’s hand.

“Er, yeah, you too,” Dudley replies, suitably intimidated. “So, er, are you one of Harry’s friends from school?”

Draco smirks. Unable to resist, he says matter-of-factly, “I’m his boyfriend, actually,” and takes a small step backwards, anticipating some sort of outburst or perhaps even a complete meltdown from the clearly socially inept Muggle in front of him.

To his surprise—and Harry’s as well; Harry, who’s standing there in a mild state of shock after hearing Draco’s blunt reply—neither event occurs.

Dudley only mumbles, “Oh. Okay.” He doesn't seem to think Harry being in a relationship with a boy is anything out of the ordinary.

Draco is almost disappointed.

“So,” Dudley continues after a beat. “Did you want to see mum, Harry? I’m afraid she’s not here. She went to visit a friend in Brookwood for the day. But you could come in for a drink or something if you want?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t need to come in. Actually, I’d really rather not. I just wanted to show Draco where I spent my childhood.”

“Oh. Okay,” Dudley says again and then adds cryptically, “It might be the last time you could visit the house as it is, though.”

Harry frowns. “How do you mean?”

“It goes up for sale next week.”

“What? Why?”

This time it’s Dudley’s turn to frown. “I suppose you don’t know, then?”

“Know what?”

“About my parents getting a divorce?”

“A divorce?” Harry parrots. “Really?”

Dudley nods. “While you were off fighting that Dark Wizard and his army, and we were at that _Order_ place, things got pretty tense. Dad couldn’t cope too well with the situation. He yelled at everyone every day, especially at mum.”

Harry shakes his head and clenches his fists. Reminders of Uncle Vernon’s foul temper never fail to make his blood boil.

“Also,” Dudley continues, “he had to take an indefinite leave of absence from his job, which meant less money coming in, and he was paranoid about the people who worked for him as well. He assumed they’d be slacking off or stealing from him while he was away, and by the time he got back they’d have ruined the company… Basically, he became impossible to live with, lashed out constantly, and if any of us dared to say anything about his shitty attitude, he claimed it was all your fault, and mum’s too, because it was her sister who married a freak Wizard instead of a decent, normal human being like everybody else.”

“Charming,” Draco interjects, silently plotting Vernon Dursley’s slow and painful demise, just in case the wretched creature is ever unfortunate enough to cross paths with him.

“So once it was safe to return home,” Dudley speaks once more, “mum got in touch with a solicitor. A few weeks later, she presented dad with divorce papers. He was so pissed off, he stormed out of the house and didn’t come back again.”

“Blimey,” Harry says. 

“The only time he did come back after that was this morning, to pick up some of his stuff. All other communication between my parents has been through solicitors. Mum can’t handle dealing with him anymore. Actually, that’s why she’s away now, too, in case dad started trouble when he got here. I decided to make myself scarce as well, for the same reason. See, I haven’t spoken to him either, not for months now; I reckon that’s for the best.”

Harry nods. “What are you going to do next, though? Especially once the house is sold?”

Dudley smiles. “We’ll be all right. Mum put down a deposit for a flat two weeks ago. It’s just over in the next village, and we’ll be moving in mid January. She’s working again, you know. She’s got a job at the post office, so it’s all going to be okay.”

“Glad to hear that,” Harry says sincerely. While he may not be fond of his Aunt Petunia and likely never will be, he’s relieved to learn Vernon won’t be hurting her anymore. That man has already caused everyone around him enough damage to last them several lifetimes.

“So what are you up to these days?” Harry then asks. “Still boxing?”

Dudley grins. “I’m back at school, would you believe? I really screwed up last time and I figured I should take another shot at my GCSEs. Maybe I’ll be able to get into a good college, actually make something of my life.” He frowns and continues in a softer tone, “I’d hate to end up frustrated, mean and bitter like my father because I had all these opportunities and just let them pass me by.”

Harry nods in understanding.

“So how about you?”

Harry smiles. “I finish Hogwarts in a few months and then we’ll see what happens next.”

“Are you going to enroll in that… magical law enforcement training thingy.. Sorry, I forgot what it’s called exactly, but they seemed really keen to have you join them.”

Harry shakes his head. “Nah, I’m done fighting Dark Wizards. The Ministry will have to find another chump to do their dirty work for them.”

Dudley nods. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Harry and Dudley continue chatting, with Draco occasionally joining in, about school, Christmas and life in general.

About an hour later, friendly goodbyes are exchanged, promises are made to keep in touch, and Harry knows he’ll see his cousin again some day, somewhere in a different place with not as many awful memories.

It’s a nice thought, another piece of the puzzle fitting into the right place. Perhaps he did find that closure he was after.

Dudley goes back into the house.

From the pavement, Harry and Draco watch the living room lights being switched on. They notice there is a Christmas tree after all, albeit a small, simple one. Harry supposes it suits the changing circumstances.

“So,” Draco says. “How about that cheesecake you promised me?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “The tea room’s only a few blocks away,” he says, smiling. “We can walk.”

“All right.”

With Draco’s hand in his, Harry leaves Privet Drive for what he’s certain is the very last time. He never looks back.


	24. Chapter 24

Dressed in black denim trousers and a green turtleneck jumper, Draco emerges from the bathroom. Harry notices he looks paler than usual.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“Yes,” Draco replies with a thin smile. “Of course.”

“You’re not nervous about going to the Burrow, are you?”

“No, I’m not nervous,” he says, raking an unsteady hand through his hair. “I’m bloody terrified, actually.”

Harry gets up from where he’s sitting on the bed and walks to stand in front of his boyfriend. “It’ll be fine,” he assures him. “Nothing awful is going to happen.”

“Harry.” Draco sighs. “The Weasleys hate my guts and let’s face it, after everything Father and I did, they have every reason to.” He shakes his head and starts pacing the room. “Even before the Dark Lord returned, before the war broke out… Their family has been at odds with mine for as long as I can remember. Did we ever get on at all? I don’t know, the more I think about it, the more this whole thing just seems so...”

“What?”

“Are you certain they’re not planning to lure me into some kind of trap so they can teach me a lesson, exact revenge?” Draco takes a deep, steadying breath and continues, sounding more frantic by the second, “Why would they even want me there? Why invite me into their home for a festive gathering as though we’re on good terms? If you look at it logically, it makes no sense whatsoever for them to do so.”

“Draco,” Harry says evenly. “They definitely wouldn’t ask you there under false pretences. Trust me, I know them well enough by now, and that’s really not the kind of people they are. They only suggested I bring you along because they know we’re in a relationship, that’s all. There is no evil plot here. This isn’t about you, or the war, or your father, or getting even, or anything else.”

“And you’re completely sure of this? I mean...”

“Look.” Harry takes Draco’s hands in his own. “I expect your presence there will probably feel a bit awkward at first, for everyone, but no one wants to get into another fight. Molly told me we should all make an effort to put the past behind us, let bygones be bygones, and move on with our lives. She said there’s been more than enough heartache already. So...” Harry gently squeezes Draco’s hands. “Let’s just give this a chance, huh? And if at any time, you’re really not comfortable, we can always make up some plausible excuse and leave. All right?”

Draco nods slowly. “Okay.” He takes another deep breath before he says, “Let’s do this, then. My outfit’s all right, isn’t? Casual Muggle style, you said?”

“Yes.” Harry smiles. “It’s perfect.”

 

 

**** 

 

 

“It’s so wonderful to have you in our midst again, dear,” Molly enthuses, pulling Harry into a crushing embrace. “My goodness, it’s been ages!”

“Um, yeah, it has,” he mumbles in response, feeling a bit smothered but grateful for the loving hug all the same. He had countless valid reasons for staying away for so long and truly, he couldn’t have revisited this place any earlier than today, but he’s glad to be back now, among the people who for so many years were the closest thing he had to a caring family.

After quite a while, Molly releases him and turns her attention to his companion instead. “So good of you to come, too. Welcome to our home, Draco.”

“Mrs Weasley,” he replies with a polite smile and shakes her hand. “I appreciate your inviting me.” He reaches behind him to pick the potted orchid up from the floor. “I brought you a little something. Happy Christmas.”

“How lovely,” Molly says, surprised. She never expected Draco to bring her a gift. “Thank you. So your mother still grows those spectacular orchids?”

Draco nods. “Indeed, she does.”

“I’ll take extremely good care of this one.”

Arthur emerges, pats Harry on the shoulder and shakes Draco’s hand. With a guarded smile, he accepts the bottle of red wine. He has yet to form a definite opinion about allowing Lucius Malfoy’s son into his home as a guest, but he supposes people can change.

Besides, there’s no evidence to assume this boy will go down the same dangerous, murky path his father did. He’s only eighteen years old, he still has his whole life ahead of him, and the ugly acts he committed during the war and in the time leading up to it were most likely done under duress, too. His parents’ lives had been threatened, along with his own; how much of a choice did he truly have? The poor kid must have been terrified.

“Well, then,” Arthur says cheerfully, snapping himself back to the present. “Come in, you two. You’re right on time. We’re just about to serve tea!”

Entering the living room, Harry notices a few members of the Weasley clan are absent. 

He guesses they’re either busy doing other things—Charlie probably rushed back to Romania first thing on Christmas morning, not wanting to leave his dragons in the care of his keen but green-behind-the-ears assistant for too long—or they didn’t fancy breaking bread with a Malfoy, not just yet or possibly never. Some wounds are still too fresh and will take a lot longer to heal, if they ever do.

“Harry, there you are!” Ginny sprints out of the kitchen to throw her arms around him. “Happy Christmas!”

Next she turns to a baffled Draco and repeats the gesture.

Soon everyone is exchanging greetings and sitting down at the large dining table. Molly serves tea and cakes, including treacle tarts she baked especially for Harry.

The conversation is intentionally light hearted and at times, the smiles seem a bit artificial, but people are clearly making an effort, even Ron, and for a first attempt, Harry decides this really isn’t bad at all.

 

****

 

Once the table is cleared, Harry walks over to one of the sofas and sits down next to George. The young man has become a lot more subdued than he used to be, a dim shadow of the bright, always laughing prankster he once was. He still mourns the loss of his twin brother. A part of him probably always will.

“So. Draco Malfoy, huh?” he remarks out of the blue, quietly so only Harry can hear. There’s a tinge of bitterness to his tone, and more than a little sadness. “The love of your life, is he?”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters back with a small, almost apologetic smile. “I reckon he is, actually.”

“Good for you, I guess. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found someone special to share your life with. That’s a rare thing, especially nowadays.”

“Thanks,” Harry says awkwardly. “A-Are you holding up all right?”

This earns him a wry smile. “Not really, but I’ll be fine eventually. I have to be. I’ve got our mum to consider, yeah? Besides, we’re made of pretty strong stuff, you know, us Weasleys.”

“Yeah, I know." 

“Mum’s well chuffed you’re here,” George adds, taking a sip from his tea. “She’s missed you loads. We all have.”

Overcome with guilt, Harry gazes down at his hands. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I needed to be by myself for a while, have some space and get away from it all... Last summer was just… unbearably painful.”

George nods. “You can say that again, mate. It was the bloody pits.”

They continue to drink their tea and for a long while, don’t feel the need to speak again.

On the other side of the spacious living room, Draco tentatively approaches Hermione. She’s sitting on another sofa with Ron.

“Might I have a word, Granger?”

“Er, yes,” she replies, surprised. “Certainly. Go on.”

“Preferably somewhere more private, if possible?”

“Oh!” She gasps, as understanding of what this might be about begins to dawn on her. “Of course. We can talk in Arthur’s study.”

She gets up. Ron immediately follows her example, practically jumping to his feet. Draco frowns.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Malfoy.” Ron sneers. “I want to know exactly what you’re up to this time, you shifty bugger, you’re not sneaking anything past me, so I’ll be coming along. Like it or lump it.”

Draco smirks but remains silent. Hermione just rolls her eyes.

The three of them move to a small side room. Wordlessly, Draco takes a tiny square object out of his trouser pocket, places it on the desk and casts an unshrinking spell.

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione exclaims. “You found it!”

“Indeed I did,” Draco replies, feeling a bit smug. “It was exactly where I hoped it would be.”

Carefully, Hermione picks up the thick tome and leafs through its delicate pages. “This is it,” she says excitedly. “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for! I’ll have to find a way to tweak some of the specific… With that one, I’m sure I can… Yes.” She gently puts the book back down and faces Draco again. “This will be ever so helpful,” she tells him with a wide smile. “Thank you!”

Before he can respond, Hermione pulls him into a tight embrace.

Not amused and decidedly unimpressed, Ron shakes his head slowly. Begrudgingly, he remarks, “Yeah. Cheers, Malfoy. You actually did a good thing. Makes a nice change.”

Unfazed by Weasley’s barb but embarrassed by Hermione’s reaction— _Silly, sentimental, touchy-feely Gryffindor girl; really now!_ — Draco disentangles himself and clears his throat. “You should probably _Shrink_ that again, Granger, and keep it somewhere safe.”

Hermione nods. “Yes, of course. I will.”

“Right. I’ll leave you to it, then,” Draco says. He returns to the living room.

When he doesn’t spot his boyfriend anywhere, he approaches Neville, who points him in the direction of the kitchen.

Draco pushes the door open. Harry is indeed where Longbottom said he would be, but he’s not alone. He and Ginny Weasley are standing by the sink, locked in each other’s arms and showing no signs of letting one another go.

Draco swallows thickly at the sight. His heart races. _This doesn’t mean anything,_ he silently tells himself; Harry would never cheat on him or go back to his ex-girlfriend. _Would he?_

“Oh, hello,” Ginny says, noticing the person who just came in. She releases Harry and adds, “I guess this means you’ll be the second person to hear my news, Draco.”

“What news?” he asks, surprised his voice still works. Catching Harry— _his_ Harry—in the middle of an affectionate moment with the Weasley girl was like a hard and unexpected slap in the face.

“There will be a big announcement later,” she replies, grinning from ear to ear, entirely oblivious to his discomfort, “but seeing how Harry and I used to be together, I thought it would be the decent thing to do to tell him about it first.”

Draco frowns.

Ginny’s grin grows even wider. ”This morning, Neville asked me to marry him and I said yes!" 

Draco releases a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He feels like a massive weight was just lifted off his slender shoulders.

“Of course it will be a long engagement,” Ginny continues, quickly, as though in all her enthusiasm she can’t get the words out fast enough. “We have to finish Hogwarts first. I really hope I’ll be ready to take my NEWTs in June! I’ll have to work extra hard for that, obviously. Anyway, Professor Sprout has asked Neville to be her apprentice, which would be a brilliant opportunity for him, and I was thinking since Madam Hooch will be retiring in two years, maybe I could apply to train and take over from her as Quidditch instructor and referee? Of course all of that is still quite a way off, but it’s the plan at this stage anyway, something to aim for.”

“Ah,” Draco says. By now, his earlier suspicions have him feeling rather stupid. He knows Harry and Ginny broke up a long time ago and that they’re still close friends, so rationally speaking, seeing them hug shouldn’t have bothered him, but then again, when has he ever been rational in matters concerning Harry Potter?

“In that case,” he continues, forcing a smile. “Let me also be the second person to congratulate you. I hope you and Longbo- Neville will be very happy together.”

He holds out his hand.

Ginny walks over to where he’s standing and hugs him instead. “Thank you,” she says. “I’m certain we will be.”

Over Ginny’s shoulder, Draco looks at Harry. He’s standing there smiling and looks truly content. So Draco smiles too, genuinely this time.

  

****

  

“Thank you for your kind hospitality, Mrs Weasley, and that scrumptious chocolate cake.” 

Molly shakes Draco’s hand before giving him a light, friendly pat on the shoulder. “You’re welcome here anytime, dear,” she says, smiling, and she means it. She can’t imagine ever being on amicable terms with Lucius— that man has done too many foul things and doesn’t show even a hint of remorse about a single one of them— but his son seems to have redeemed himself. The young man obviously means the world to Harry as well, so he deserves a fair chance.

Draco suspects Harry might like to say a longer goodbye and perhaps discuss some private matters with Mrs Weasley, so he leaves them to it. “I’ll go on ahead,” he says and climbs aboard the carriage that’s waiting to take them back to the Manor.

“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Molly says. “It was really lovely to have you spending time with us today.”

“It was great to be back and to see you all again,” he replies. “Thanks for inviting Draco, too. I know that couldn’t have been an easy decision, considering...”

The smile never leaves Molly’s face. “The war is over and done with now, dear,” she says. “We should all make the effort to try to get along and avoid a new one. Besides, that young man of yours is polite and seems quite charming, and it’s plain to see he makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a wide grin. “He really does, very happy.”

“Well, then.” Molly affectionately ruffles his hair. “I’m glad. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve all the joy in the world.”

Harry smiles and allows himself to be pulled back into her arms.

 

 

****

 

Late that evening, Harry is sitting in front of the fireplace in Draco’s room, taking a closer look at the red and gold jumper Molly gave him. In spite of everything, she knitted him one this year, too.

“Aren’t you going to try that on?” Draco asks, walking into the room. He just had a little chat with Narcissa to assure her there were no altercations at the Weasleys’, and no one tried to hex or poison him in belated retaliation either.

“Er, yeah,” Harry mumbles. “I suppose so.”

Hesitantly, he pulls the garment over his head. He has a strong suspicion Draco is about to make fun of him and he hopes with all his heart he’s wrong about that. Molly’s jumpers might not be the latest fashion, but they have come to mean the world to Harry; he doesn’t want them mocked.

When Draco remains silent, Harry ventures carefully: “You hate it, don’t you? You think it’s hideous? Daft?”

Draco shakes his head. “It looks warm, soft and very comfortable to me, actually.”

“Oh.” Harry smiles, relieved. “It is. All of those things.”

“I believe I remember you wearing a similar one at Hogwarts a few years ago. Do you get a new one from her every Christmas or something?”

“Yeah. The Weasley kids do as well. It’s pretty much a family tradition.” Harry grins. “Who knows? Maybe next year there will be one for you, too.”

Draco chuckles. “Stranger things have happened lately. Anyway...” He clears his throat. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

Draco steps closer. He has an odd expression on his face.

Sensing something unusual is afoot, Harry sits up straighter. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t worry; it isn’t anything bad,” Draco replies quickly, as he sits down next to Harry. “Not at all. There’s just something I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite a while now.”

Harry blinks. He’s terribly nervous all of a sudden, although he hasn't a clue why. Perhaps it's because he can practically feel the anxiety radiating off Draco in waves. Something is definitely up.

Draco speaks again: “I’ve been seriously considering this for the past couple of weeks, wondering if it might be too soon, but now Ginevra and Longbottom have beaten me to it, stolen my thunder as it were...”

Harry blinks. His heart begins to race and he can’t find any words to speak.

“I still find it a bit too soon to make an official announcement or arrangement of some sort, we still have so many things to decide and plan about the future, so you should probably regard this as a token instead, a solemn promise of things to come.”

“A promise?” Harry manages in a whisper.

“Mmm,” Draco murmurs. He utters a spell and a small box appears in his lap. He hands it to Harry. “I got this for you in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “What? When?”

Draco grins. “Remember that Thursday afternoon I never showed up for classes?”

Harry nods. “You told me you’d fallen asleep in your dorm after lunch.”

“Quite.” Draco sniggers. “That was a lie. Sorry. It was all in a good cause, however.”

“Oh. Er, right.”

“Well, then,” Draco continues with a nervous chuckle. “Aren’t you going to open that?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Carefully, Harry flips the lid off the box.

“It’s a only a promise ring, mind you. I’ll get you a proper one eventually. That is, of course, assuming you’d be willing to…”

Harry’s breath catches at the sight of the silver band. It looks delicate and expensive and it sports a small, discreet Celtic pattern.

Draco clears his throat. “So, as for my question: after we're done with Hogwarts and once our lives have settled down a bit… Would you marry me?”

“W-Wizards can marry each other, too?” Harry stammers, surprised. He mentioned marriage before, of course, but he never thought it would actually be possible.

“Of course we can,” Draco replies matter-of-factly. “So… What do you say? Would you want to, eventually?”

“Draco.” Harry grins. “What do you think I’m going to say? _Yes!_ A thousand times yes!”

He takes the ring and slips it on. It seems a bit big initially but it soon fits around his finger as though it was made especially for it 

“Magic,” Draco whispers at Harry’s incredulous look. “Some day you might actually be used to it, Potter.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Harry smiles sheepishly. “So, marriage, huh?”

Draco nods and takes Harry’s hands in his. “If it were only up to me, I’d elope with you right now, but the wisest thing would be to wait until our lives are in order, not to mention, Mother would kill us both if we didn’t let her plan a proper wedding for us, so as soon as we’re ready for all that...”

Harry nods. “It’s funny, George asked me earlier if you’re the love of my life. Maybe he was only teasing me, trying to rile me up, but I told him you are, and I-I meant it.”

Draco smiles. “For me it’s always been you, you know that, even back when we were constantly at each other’s throats.”

Harry sighs. “We should have tried to become friends much sooner. We wasted so much time... We were so stupid.”

“Yes, but let’s not dwell on that too much. What matters is what we have now,” Draco says, determined to lighten the mood before regret and melancholy get a chance to set in. He pulls Harry closer to him. “And I, for one, have you exactly where I want you.”

“Really?” Harry asks him with a mischievous grin. “Wouldn’t you rather have me in your bed instead?”

Draco pretends to seriously consider that question for a moment before he replies dryly, “Well, now that you mention it... That's a very good point." He rises to his feet, pulling Harry up with him.

A sliver of insecurity pierces Harry’s happiness before he can stop it. “We’ll make this work, won’t we?” he asks softly once they’re standing face to face.

“Harry,” Draco replies, and tenderly kisses him on the lips. “Haven't you noticed? We already are.”

 


	25. Epilogue

Stepping onto Platform 9 ¾, Harry smiles at the sights and sounds that greet him.

There are children everywhere. Some are excited, others seem quite nervous, but pretty much all of them buzz with anticipation of starting the new school year.

After Voldemort’s defeat, Hogwarts once again became the safest place in Britain, if not of the entire Wizarding World.

Since the castle was rebuilt, not a single attack has occurred there.

Even the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers have been able to carry out their job unscathed, though, truth be told, Harry wouldn’t have minded terribly if Professor Woundsworth had met with some unfortunate accident before he left for different pastures six years ago. Nothing fatal or too horrible, of course. A Hex of Eternal Itching, on the other hand, would have been just the thing.

Harry glances to his left. Draco is walking by his side, perfectly in step with him. The man has a pensive smile on his face. Harry supposes he must be reminiscing.

King’s Cross certainly holds many memories.

The very first time Harry set foot on this platform, he was only eleven and quite clueless, but nonetheless he knew he was on the threshold of something huge and life changing. The experience was a bit scary, but mostly thrilling. It was the kind of adventure he’d never dreamt would happen to the likes of him.

In later years, boarding the Hogwarts Express after a rotten summer at the Dursleys’ was like finally heading back home. Regardless of whatever else was going on in his life and despite the ever-growing threat of Voldemort, seeing this place never failed to make Harry feel relieved and happy.

Except on the first of September right after the war.

When he entered the station that morning, oddly enough—or perhaps not that oddly, knowing what he does now—his mind wasn’t filled with joy. Instead all he could think about was Draco.

Would Draco be there, too, to finish his schooling, and if not, would Harry ever set eyes on him again?

The idea of having to complete his eighth year without Draco around left him with a vast sense of emptiness he couldn’t explain and frankly was a bit frightened to analyse.

Perhaps he should have already realised it back then, the true nature of his obsession with that boy, the reason why his fixation on him refused to disappear, even after the war, after they’d saved each other’s lives a few times and were obviously no longer a threat to one another.

Still, none of that matters today. Harry has Draco by his side now, and he’s never letting him go.

Not that Draco would want to leave.

Three months after their graduation, the two of them got married. It was a small private ceremony held on a West Sussex beach.

It wasn’t the big, lavish wedding they’d assumed Narcissa would prefer, because it turned out Narcissa didn’t care one bit about the specifics. She was just over the moon to see her son so blissfully in love with someone who returned those feelings.

So one sunny afternoon in Littlehampton, surrounded by their nearest and dearest, Harry and Draco exchanged vows.

Not long thereafter, they moved from Malfoy Manor into their own home, a mansion that used to be a farmhouse, located right on the outskirts of Canterbury.

In their vast back garden, another impressive building stands. A long time ago, it was a barn, but it has since been converted to a state-of-the-art lab.

Almost immediately after leaving Hogwarts, Draco set up a Potions business together with Gregory Goyle—who, much to Harry’s astonishment, proved to be very efficient at accounting—and Blaise Zabini, who took charge of the sales and public relations side of things and will basically tackle anything that requires a smooth talker who excels at the art of persuasion.

After the war, many medicinal Potions were in short supply. The ones Draco created were of the highest quality, so his venture was an instant hit. It continues to boom.

“Ah, the monster returns,” Draco remarks, smiling. “We needn’t send out a search party after all.”

Teddy strides towards them, tugging Vince along. Just like his father was, Vincent Crabbe Junior is already a big, broad-shouldered lad at age eleven, but due to his great love of sports (Quidditch and tennis especially), he’s athletic rather than chubby.

Pansy follows a few steps behind. She’s holding hands with her husband.

It was a romance no one could have predicted when, in early 2000, Pansy purchased the empty, almost derelict property next to _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_.

Pansy had always liked pretty, fancy things, and a few mistakes aside—remembering the pink monstrosity she wore to the fourth year Yule Ball even today makes her cringe—she’d always had a keen eye for fashion as well. She always thought she’d make a decent designer and would be able to bring back some much-needed style, luxury and class to every Witch’s wardrobe.

So she took her aunt Morag’s advice and used some of Bellatrix’ money to put that theory to the test.

Her first line of dresses was an overnight success. Many more high-selling collections followed, and Pansy has since built herself something of a clothing empire.

Her first boutique would be right next to George’s shop. Back in those days, even though she’d never let it show (not even to Draco), she was still struggling immensely, mourning Vincent. She thought she’d never get over his death. She was certain she’d never find love again. She wasn’t even interested in looking for it.

However, every day, as her building was being renovated, she’d bump into George. Sometimes they’d talk, and when it was finally time to move all her stuff in, he helped her, no matter how often or how loudly she insisted that the men she’d hired were perfectly capable of doing the job by themselves.

All things considered, George and Pansy striking up a friendship was unexpected and perhaps rather strange. George had always considered Pansy to be Malfoy's stuck-up _bit of stuff_ and of course she’d always known he was a Weasley and one simply did not mingle with Weasleys.

Nevertheless, they gradually became good friends. They helped heal each other's grief and somewhere further down the line, they also fell in love.

They've been married for three years now and are very happy together.

Vince, for his part, loves his funny, forever cheerful stepdad. He also hopes his mum will make good on her promise of giving him a little brother soon. Or a sister. He’s not terribly fussed.

Pansy throws her arms around Draco, always pleased to see him. Then she does the same to Harry and says with a smirk, “Hello Potter.”

Pansy stubbornly refuses to call Harry by his first name. It’s a matter of principle, or as she once put it herself: “ _For years and years, I had to put up with Draco rabbiting on about Bloody Potter this and Sodding Potter that and what the hell is Saint Potter up to now, to the point where I could almost hear him ranting at me in my dreams. So you’ll always be 'Potter' to me. Any complaints, whine at His Highness directly and leave me well out of it!”_

Draco had the decency to look embarrassed, whereas Harry merely grinned, well aware Draco hadn’t been the only one obsessed with the boy who, back in those days, was still his school nemesis.

George gives Harry a one-armed hug and shakes Draco’s hand. The relationship between Draco and the Weasleys remains a bit strained, but they’ll keep working on it.

Ron still doesn’t particularly like Draco either, but he’s willing to tolerate him for the sake of not spoiling Harry’s happiness. Ron has to admit he’s never seen his best mate this happy.

After finishing Hogwarts, Ron was recruited by a Quidditch talent scout. The man had approached Harry originally, but Harry hadn’t been the least bit interested.

Ron realised full well he’d only been second choice, but rather than react with jealousy as he’d done countless times before, he took Hermione’s advice to heart and became all the more determined to succeed. His dedication and hard work paid off in the end. These days, he ranks highly in the top five of international Quidditch players and his matches take him all over the world.

Five years ago, he married Hermione. After what to everyone around them seemed like an eternity of dating, they finally tied the knot.

Hermione wanted her writing career to take off first. After reuniting with her parents and restoring their memory, she put together a book that helps Muggleborn children find their way in the Wizarding World. It would be the first in a best-sellling series.

Meanwhile, Hermione also continues to fight for Creature Rights. That is, when she can find the time. Raising twins keeps her pretty busy, especially since she refuses to keep House Elves.

Fiona and Frederick turn three in November.

“Teddy, remember to write your grandmother this evening like you promised,” Harry says. “She’ll want to know every little detail about your arrival and your Sorting, and she’ll worry whether you’ve settled in all right.”

Teddy grins. “Will do.”

“And while you’re at it, drop us a line, too,” Draco cuts in. “That goes for you as well, Vincent.”

The boys nod in unison.

“I really hope they'll put me in Slytherin,” Vince tells Teddy. “Or with you, wherever you end up.”

“It would be dead wicked if we were Sorted into the same House,” Teddy ponders aloud. “That’s probably not going to be Slytherin, though, I shouldn’t think. A part-Werewolf in the posh house of Purebloods? Not bloody likely.”

“They don’t just accept Purebloods in Slytherin, that’s a load of rubbish, I’ll have you know, a myth started by people with prejudices who’ll say anything nasty just ‘cause they hate us,” Vince replies. “Although,” he teases good-naturedly. “When I think about it, you’re probably a lot more likely to end up in Hufflepuff than Slytherin.”

Teddy shrugs, not bothered. “Anything but Gryffindor is fine by me,” he says dismissively.

“Oi! What’s wrong with Gryffindor, may I ask?” George enquires, mildly affronted.

“Oh. Nothing. No, nothing at all,” Teddy replies quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… that House comes with so much pressure. I’m not awfully brave. I’m certainly no hero like my godfather. I plain suck at Quidditch, just ask Vince here.”

Vince nods in agreement. “Yeah. Not one of your talents, mate. Sorry to say.”

“See,” Teddy goes on. “I just couldn’t live up to all those expectations people would have of me if I was placed there.”

George nods in understanding. “Ah, when you look at it like that.”

“You’ll do great wherever you end up,” Harry reassures his godson. “Don’t worry about it. The Hat’ll know where you belong. It always does.”

Teddy nods.

He and Vince say their farewells and walk to the train. They’ve been best friends all their lives and everyone expects that’s what they’ll forever remain, no matter which Hogwarts Houses they end up in or how many other people they meet along the way.

“Time flies,” Harry mutters. “It seems only yesterday they were just babies.”

Draco nods.

They silently wait for the train to depart and wave back at random kids. Everyone on board seems to be smiling.

“Right.” It’s Pansy who speaks next. “I’m afraid George and I must dash off now, boys!”

“Going somewhere interesting, are you?” Draco asks.

Pansy nods. “Paris,” she says. “They have their Witches’ Fashion Week in a few days, and we’ll be showcasing my new line of evening gowns there, so there’s still quite a bit of work to be done. There have been skirmishes amongst the models, too, so I’ll need to sort that out. Bunch of stuck-up tarts. I really hope I won’t have to let some of them go. It’s such a drag trying to find new people at short notice.”

“And I will be tagging along for the sights, the culture, the fine wines and the food,” George interjects, putting an arm around his wife. When Draco raises an amused eyebrow at him, he adds, “All right, fine, I’m going mostly for the booze and grub.”

Harry chuckles.

“You can contact us any time,” Pansy says. “We’ve cast a spell so a friendly owl will always find us easily. You know, it seemed the sensible thing to do, just in case there’s an emergency with Vince…”

“Not that there will be an emergency with Vince, love,” George interjects. “He’ll be perfectly safe where he is; the Headmistress will see to that. And my sister and Neville are there as well. They’ll keep an extra special eye on things.”

“I know, but just in case,” she replies. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

“Of course,” George says, giving Harry a small wink. “You’re absolutely right, darling, as always.”

They say their goodbyes. Pansy promises Draco he’ll hear from her as soon as she’s back on British soil, and then she and George saunter towards the exit.

Harry takes Draco’s hand. “Would you like to stop for coffee before we head back home?”

“Coffee?” Draco smiles. “Are you sure you don’t have something sweeter in mind?”

Harry grins. “Fine, you got me. Did you notice that new tearoom just outside? I spotted some really delicious looking apple pie in their cake counter when we walked past....”

“I see.” Draco chuckles. “We’d better hurry over there then before it’s all gone.”

Harry nods. They’re just leaving the station when a loud voice behind them demands their attention.

“Hello? Excuse me? We’re with _The Daily Prophet_. Could we have a moment of your time, please? This won’t take long, I promise.”

“Damn,” Draco mutters. “It would appear you’ve been spotted. Do we _Apparate_ out of here, or do you want to talk to them?”

Harry sighs deeply. In recent years, he’s successfully managed to keep his name out of the press. His marriage to Draco was mentioned, obviously, but soon after that, he pretty much fell off the radar.

Of course, the fact that he all but disappeared from the public eye helped. Following the expert advice of Gringotts’ Brodrick The Fifth, who now handles all of Harry’s financial matters, he invested some of his money extremely wisely, which gives him a steady flow of income without needing to look for paid work.

Instead, he can devote the time he would otherwise spend at a job running a wildlife sanctuary in the Muggle World. It’s called “Hedwig’s Haven” and specialises in the conservation and rehabilitation of birds of prey.

His work at the sanctuary is extremely rewarding on many levels, and it doesn't subject him to any of the attention or hero-worship he truly doesn’t miss from his days as the Wizarding World's _Chosen One_ and _Saviour_. None of the people he deals with have the slightest clue who he really is. Some of the owls he helps might know, though, but birds are above caring about that sort of thing and besides, they can't talk. 

He takes a deep breath. “It’s fine,” he says, knowing full well from painful past experience that running from reporters will only make them more determined to sink their proverbial claws and teeth into you.

Harry braces himself as he and Draco turn around to face the lady who approached them. She’s young and blonde, dressed in a green two-piece suit, and she has a photographer with her, a bespectacled bloke with long black hair.

What happens next isn’t what Harry expected or feared, however.

“Mr Malfoy,” the reporter begins, addressing Draco rather than him. “Hello, I’m Melinda Mason.”

“Technically, Ms Mason,” Draco corrects her with a smirk, “my name is Malfoy-Potter now.”

“Yes,” she says quickly. “Yes, of course. Silly me. My apologies, Mr Malfoy-Potter.”

“That’s quite all right.”

“We, that is, our readers and ourselves, have been wondering: is there any truth to these rumours we’ve been hearing about you?”

Draco resists a strong urge to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a tad more specific than that, Ms Mason,” he replies. “To which rumours are you referring, exactly? There must be dozens of them floating around, at the very least.”

“Ah.” She smiles a little too sweetly. “Well, is it true you’ve successfully brewed a Potion that’s a definite cure for Lycanthropy and from which a vaccine can be derived as well?”

Draco blinks. The Potion he developed is as good as ready, that much is true. It appears to be effective as well, but more testing is definitely required before it can be released to the general public.

Daphne, Gregory’s wife now and a trained Mediwitch, is taking care of that part of the process, together with a small team of nurses. Fortunately, volunteers weren’t terribly hard to come by. Draco doesn’t know a single Werewolf alive who’s actually happy about being one.

He’s somewhat puzzled at how the press managed to catch wind of this, however. Anyone who signs up to participate in the medical trial is required to sign a confidence clause and they need to take an Unbreakable Vow as well, just to be absolutely certain.

Though when he thinks about it a bit longer, Draco suspects Blaise’s crafty mind may have been at work here. It would be just like him to drop a few hints here and there and gain a lot of free publicity and perhaps even some pre-orders in the process.

“Ms Mason,” Draco finally says. “The Potion you speak of is indeed in development, but I’m afraid it’s far too early at this point in time to divulge any details about it. Once we have more news to tell, I’ll be happy to ask my associate Mr Zabini to get in touch with you. He handles our PR, as you may know.”

“Yes,” she says, scribbling away on her pad; she does it the old-fashioned way with a regular quill. “But so, this does mean, at some point in the forseeable future, there will be a cure available for Lycanthropy?”

Draco nods. “Indeed. Our aim is to eradicate the condition completely, and that vaccine you spoke of, once it works, it should prove effective even for those infected from birth.”

“Wow.” She all but beams at him. “That’s amazing! Such wonderful, exciting news! And what a scoop for our paper! Thank you so much for your time! It's very much appreciated!”

Her companion snaps a few pictures of Draco, after which the two of them hurry off, eager to get their story to print.

Harry shakes his head and chuckles.

Draco frowns. “What’s so funny?”

“Famous Draco Malfoy with his Dark Mark and his Lycanthropy Potion,” Harry declares dramatically and bursts out laughing.

Draco shakes his head in amusement. “You just had to go there, didn’t you? Prat.”

“Oh yes,” Harry replies, grinning. “They didn’t even bother with me, did you notice? They didn’t even give me the time of day.”

“Oh, I noticed, all right,” Draco says. “Jealous, Potter?”

“Hardly. You’re welcome to the attention, Draco, all of it.” He laughs again and adds, “Imagine, very soon you won’t even be able to go to the bookstore without making the front page.”

Draco crosses his arms in mock indignation. “Are you _quite_ done?” he asks, trying to seem annoyed but his wide grin gives him away.

“For now,” Harry replies dryly.

“You’re lucky I love you so much, Potter. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Harry says, suddenly serious again and not caring one bit how sappy he may sound. “I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world, actually.”

“Oh. Well. Good.”

Draco kisses him, then, not bothered with who might see or take a photograph of them. “Come on. I believe you still owe me a slice of apple pie. And at least one cup of coffee.”

Harry nods.

Hand in hand, they walk to the tearoom.

Under a sunny September sky, the first leaves are starting to fall. It’ll be autumn soon, then Christmas, and another year without the threat of Voldemort looming over their heads.

They pick a spot by the window. A friendly waiter takes their order.

Harry glances across the table at his husband.

Draco smiles a warm smile only his loved ones ever get to see.

Harry smiles back, once again realising he’s happy and completely at peace.

His world is bright now. So is his future. Life is good.


End file.
